


Untitled Tour Fic

by ibby (ibkod)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Forced Proximity, Hatesex, M/M, RPF, RPS - Freeform, Swangoose, UST, ancient fic, handjobs, old as BALLS, slowburn, tourfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibkod/pseuds/ibby
Summary: Post-2010-Olympics, Johnny is hired onto the newly resurrected Champions on Ice Tour. Unfortunately so is one Evan Lysacek. Cue the slowest burn you'll ever subject yourself to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this fandom, and especially this pairing, is DOA AS FUCK. I started writing this a immediately following the 2010 Vancouver Olympics and then Evan was a prick and the ship sank, this fic with it. I still miss this pairing in its heyday tho, hits all my buttons. It's been long enough that the bitterness is gone... but I mean... so has any/all interest in the ship sooooo I can't imagine anyone will read this.
> 
> I'd be amenable to continuing with it for fun because it all got completely planned out etc, so if there's anyone out there in the echoing void of skating fandom that wants more please do leave a comment.

Johnny hitched his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. Balancing his latte in one hand and his boarding pass between his teeth, he managed to extricate his ID from the wallet as he approached the woman at the gate. He smiled pleasantly at the bored looking woman and received a cursory glance up from his ID, a bland smile and instruction to continue through the gate and enjoy his flight.

Johnny huffed to himself as he entered the tunnel, tucking his ID back into his jeans pocket. He was still berating himself for ever agreeing to have a part in this circus, but Tara had named (and excluded) all the right names, given all the right prodding, and Johnny was still so deliciously satisfied that Scott had fucked up the whole Stars on Ice franchise that he couldn’t say no. As Johnny settled into his comfortable (first class, thank you very much Tara) seat, he closed his eyes and replayed the fantastically ironic series of events that had culminated with the unearthing of Scott Hamilton’s Big Gay Secret and his following plummet from the USFSA’s graces, resulting not least of all in putting Stars on Ice on hold, indefinitely. Johnny had no qualms admitting his schadenfreude regarding the entire situation, not after years of Scott’s heteronormative bullshit passive-aggressively directed at him. 

With the gap presented by the fall of Stars on Ice, Kurt Browning, bless his soul, had stepped up and promptly found a backer for the resurrection of Champions on Ice. And Johnny had _loved_ doing that show, so really, it hadn’t actually taken that much convincing at all when Kurt had contacted Tara requesting Johnny’s participation. Sure, he had dithered about for a bit, whining about hating American tours, but had promptly been set straight by mention of ‘Korea’ and ‘Japan’. He adored his Asian fans. So that was that, really, and Johnny, after completing a small round of pre-tour media in New York and then Los Angeles, was bound for a whole 5 days of rehearsals in Chicago. Apparently, Johnny thought wryly, Kurt wanted to really put on a _production_.

Johnny was distracted from his thoughts by his seat neighbour taking their place. Opening his eyes, he turned to his neighbour, brightest smile already halfway plastered on when the muscles in his face froze.

“You look like you’re having a stroke,” Evan deadpanned.

Johnny recovered immediately, recoiling in his seat. “Oh _hell_ no!” he hissed, attempting to keep his voice down for all that they were in first class as he plastered himself against the wall of the plane.

“Oh calm down, it’s a three and a half hour flight.” Evan’s eyes rolled skyward as he settled himself into the spacious seat and hunted under himself for ends of the seat belt. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Johnny snapped at him, voice creeping up in volume, earning a few curious stares from their fellow passengers.

Evan shot him a pointed look before resuming fiddling with the fastenings of the seat belt. Johnny glared at him contemptuously. “You aren’t surprised. You knew about this.”

“Maybe I’m just a very good actor,” Evan responded solemnly. Johnny chose not to grace that with a response, and arched an eyebrow pointedly instead.

Evan sighed. “Well obviously you’d have flipped your shit if you knew beforehand and you’d have refused to go.” He spoke to Johnny like Johnny was slow or something, which was just so beyond unacceptable, Johnny didn’t even know where to begin.

“So what? Wait, what? Tara knew about this?” Johnny was halfway through the contacts list on his iPhone before Evan snatched it out of his hands, probably getting greasy dirty fingerprints all over the carefully polished screen, Johnny fumed.

“This is the last flight out that will get us there in enough time to get properly settled into the hotel and for you to get enough beauty sleep to begin rehearsals tomorrow morning. I had the seat reserved myself so it would be empty because I really need to fucking sleep right now, but Tara tracked Yuki down and somehow I got talked into offering my seat to you, which I really don’t need right now because I haven’t actually slept in fourty-one hours now and I would rather not fall on my face in rehearsal tomorrow, so seeing as though I’m doing you a favour could you please just stop being a diva so I can just get some rest?” The genuine emotion in his voice stunned Johnny into silence. 

Evan’s breathing was actually a little quicker after he’d finished his rant, Johnny noticed distractedly, and two spots of ruddy colour stained high on his cheeks. Now that he noticed it, Johnny had to admit Evan looked haggard and exhausted, dark circles bruised under his eyes.

“Fine,” Johnny huffed, flopping back against the seat. “Go to sleep then. I’m still calling Tara though.” Johnny primly plucked his iPhone out from Evan’s large hands, making a show of rubbing down the screen with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Whatever,” Evan muttered, flipping his sunglasses down from his hair over his eyes and turning his body pointedly away from Johnny.

 

 

A few hours later, Johnny’s forehead was sore from leaning it against the window, watching the way the Nevada desert rose up into the Rocky Mountains and smoothed into the flat plains of the Midwest, patchwork quilting of farms stretching far off into the horizon before the view was swallowed up into banks of cloud and darkness. 

He had briefly entertained himself on his iPhone, before stowing it back in his pocket once the battery drained to a dangerous point. He’d then tried to force himself to sleep as well, but his paranoia of accidentally slipping onto Evan’s shoulder mid-nap proved counteractive to any sort of relaxation. He flipped through the in-flight magazine, twice, and briefly considered investigating Evan’s sweatpants pocket for loose change when he realised he had none and had neglected to bring his headphones in his carry-on, but quickly abandoned that idea because, well, he was not going to go digging in Evan Lysacek’s pants. 

So Johnny had watched out the window for two hours as Evan slept, shoulder still resolutely turned away from Johnny until the last half hour of the flight wherein Evan turned over, facing him, face slack and mouth slightly open in deep sleep. Johnny glanced at him, glaring on principle before returning to his vigil at the window, mouth set in a grim line. He had known for weeks who was on the roster for the tour, had seen Evan’s name in the mix. But Johnny had sighed, remembering that the last time he and Evan had really gotten along was on the last COI tour they were a part of, and let it go. He had figured there were plenty of his other friends going, and it wouldn’t be that hard to avoid Evan if need be. Well, Johnny thought sardonically as the plane dipped in turbulence as it began its descent, earning a sleepy grunt from his seat partner, that plan was turning out swimmingly so far.

 

 

One small bump quickly turned into several not-so-small bumps. The plane dropped abruptly, making Johnny’s stomach swoop, as if on a roller-coaster. He didn’t mind turbulence, really. It was actually sort of fun, if one ignored the possibility of imminent death. A particularly vigorous bump pitched Evan’s lax form forward and then slammed him back into his seat forcefully. He woke immediately, eyes wide and frantic, but glued to the back of the seat in front of him. Johnny noticed his fingers were white-knuckled as they gripped the armrests on either side of him. 

“Are we gonna crash?” Evan asked tightly, lips barely moving.

Johnny snorted. “It’s just turbulence,” he drawled. “We’re descending. You know the weather around Chicago.” 

Evan didn’t reply, didn’t look at him, mouth set in a straight line. Johnny visibly saw him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing and the tendons in his neck standing out. At the next drop the plane went into, Evan shut his eyes tightly, breath coming short bursts. 

“Hey, hey.” Johnny turned towards him. “This can’t be the first time you’ve experienced turbulence, you fly as much as I do.”

Evan’s eyes remained firmly shut. “I hate it. Fuck you for finding this funny.”

Johnny scowled darkly, despite the fact that Evan couldn’t see him. “Do you _hear_ me laughing, asshole?” He huffed sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms.

Evan didn’t respond for a good few moments, punctuated by more dips and bumps of turbulence, though they seemed to be decreasing in severity. Finally Evan took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring up at the small fan nozzle above their row. “I’m sorry,” he said shortly, looking over at Johnny. “It’s been a bad day. Couple of days.”

Johnny allowed his eyes to flick over to meet Evan’s for only a moment before returning straight-on. “Fine.” 

They sat in a rather uncomfortable silence as the turbulence finally settled down. Johnny was honestly surprised by Evan’s intense reaction to it. Although, when he thought about it, he supposed he could understand why Evan was scared of it. Evan was such a control-freak, it’s no wonder being completely not-in-control scared him. He briefly thought about bringing it up with Tanith later and having a bit of a laugh at Evan’s expense, but felt immediately ashamed when he remembered Evan’s face and his hands clutching the seat, followed closely by annoyance at himself for feeling sorry for Evan. 

Before he could think any further on it, the speakers overhead clicked and the pilot announced their final descent into the Chicago area, listing off the time and temperature and a reminder to stay seated with seat belts fastened until they were fully stopped. Johnny watched glumly out his window as they broke through the low-hanging clouds over Chicago, city-lights glowing foggily in the misty late-spring rain. He really just wanted to walk off this plane and crawl into bed. Unfortunately, he’d have to endure Evan’s company for at least another hour or two to the hotel. He entertained the idea of getting his own cab and leaving Evan to himself, but while Johnny might gossip with his close friends and drop snarky comments to the media, he couldn’t really bring himself to be downright _mean_ to Evan right now. Not when he hadn’t done anything to deserve it besides make the mistake of bending to two rather feisty managers’ wills.

The plane landed with a shuddering bump, wing flaps engaging with a mechanical drone. Johnny stared at the fat raindrops that splatted heavily on the window. He had never much liked Chicago, he thought sullenly, biting his tongue to avoid snapping at Evan who was already rummaging around to extricate his carry-on from under the seat in front of him.

 

 

Getting their bags was a relatively quick affair due to it being rather late and the airport accordingly being mostly empty. Within thirty minutes Johnny was pulling his light sweater tighter around his shoulders, shivering from the damp cold as Evan and the cab driver hauled their suitcases and bags into the back of the van. The sweater had been cloyingly warm in LA. In dreary Chicago it was certainly lacking. Johnny started as cocooning heat abruptly cloaked around his shoulders. Evan’s jacket hung loosely around him, cuffs swinging against his knees, warmed by Evan’s body heat. Johnny turned to look at him, but Evan was already climbing into the back bench of the van, stretching his long legs out along the seat. Briefly considering shrugging the gesture off, Johnny sighed in resignation and pulled the jacket closer around his body, like a blanket, and climbed in as well, taking the smaller middle bench.

Johnny thought he might fall asleep on the 45-minute drive to the other side of town, but every time he began to drift off, a pothole or sharp stop jerked him awake. He gave up on sleep yet again, but decided to go ahead and make himself comfortable, mimicking Evan’s stretched out posture and snuggling himself further into the jacket. He rolled his eyes when the Ralph Lauren logo caught his eye, remembering the jacket from Evan’s sponsorship during the last Olympics. Settling himself comfortably, he watched sleepily as the city lights drifted past outside the window opposite him, smeared by heavy rain slicking the windows. 

Figuring Evan was asleep, Johnny risked tilting his head to peer over the back of the seat. He was startled to find Evan wide awake, eyes black in the low lighting, fixed on him. He glanced away quickly. 

“I don’t want to fight with you.” Evan’s voice sounded tired and small, something Johnny hadn’t heard in many years. “Johnny.”

“Ok,” Johnny said shortly, though it held none of the scoffing derision he had intended. He was too tired to play their game right now. “Ok,” he repeated, quieter.

They rode another ten minutes in sleepy silence, Johnny vaguely aware of Evan’s eyes still watching his profile. He didn’t bother to turn to him when he asked, “Do you ever miss home? Do you miss Chicago?”

He also didn’t have to look at Evan to hear the smile in his voice. “Do you ever miss Quarryville?” Johnny turned sharply.

“You remember that? Really?”

Evan’s smile widened, face drawn tight with exhaustion. “We were teenagers when we were friends, Johnny, not four-year-olds. Of course I remember. Everyone and their grandma knows the story of you skating through the cornstalks.”

Johnny flushed, thankful of the dark. “Yes,” he replied after a moment. “Sometimes. Sometimes I even miss Delaware,” he mused softly, smiling at himself.

Evan snorted and Johnny rounded on him, grinning in spite of himself. “Hey Delaware has it’s perks!”

“Name one,” Evan challenged.

Johnny opened his mouth and closed it. Took a deep breath, eyes rolling up in consideration, held the breath, and exhaled it in a burst, laughing. Evan laughed too. It was warm and deep sounding, and Johnny realised the last time he’d heard that laugh, they’d been boys still. He sobered slightly, facing the window again.

“Mostly I miss my family.” 

There was a short pause before Evan answered. “Me too.” Something in his voice made Johnny look at him, but this time Evan’s eyes were directed up, head tilted back to watch out the window behind him, streetlight throwing his angular face into sharp relief.

 

 

They arrived at the hotel finally, Johnny easing out of the van and shifting side-to-side on stiff legs. He went around to the trunk and popped the handle open, stepping back to allow it to rise. Evan came round as Johnny pulled his skating bag out with a grunt.

“Here, let me,” he said, moving to help Johnny with his bags.

“No, I got it,” Johnny assured, setting the case aside and pulling one of Evan’s black suitcases from the pile. 

Evan took the two bags and rolled them inside the doors as the cab driver came around to help them. As Evan disappeared with the last two bags, Johnny pulled out a wad of bills from his wallet, handing them to the driver with a polite ‘thank you’ and following Evan inside. Sidling up to the counter and exchanging greetings, Johnny fished his ID out of his pocket and handed it over to the man behind the desk after Evan did the same. Glancing at the spelling of Evan’s name, the man quickly tapped at his keyboard. 

“Ah here we are, Mr. Lysacek. Room 1410. I’m glad you made it in tonight, the weather’s only going to get worse. We were expecting you close to an hour ago,” he chit-chatted.

“Yeah, um, flight delays I guess.” Johnny could tell Evan was only barely processing what the man was saying. His eyelids kept drooping comically.

“Ok well here you are, Mr. Lysacek, two room keys. If you need anything just call down and someone will be right up to assist you. Have a good night.” The man handed Evan a small envelope containing the keycards and smiled cheerily at him. Johnny wondered how many cups of coffee the man had consumed at this point in his shift. It was nearly midnight.

“And may I see your ID, mister...” the secretary prompted.

“Weir,” Johnny supplied, sliding his ID card across the wood counter.

Evan lingered at Johnny’s shoulder, blinking his eyes hard. “You can go, you don’t need to wait for me,” Johnny told him.

“You’re sure?” Evan mumbled.

“Yes, Evan.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “I don’t need your moral support to check into my room.”

Evan rolled his eyes in return and shouldered his duffel bag, snapping the handle of his suitcase out. Johnny turned back to the secretary and frowned when he saw the man squinting at his card and then at the computer screen, re-entering his name and clicking the mouse several times.

“Um...”

“ _’Um?’ _” Johnny repeated dubiously. He noticed Evan turn back towards the desk apprehensively.__

__“Well, I uh- I’m not sure what... let me try again.” The man tapped Johnny’s name into the system again. “It- it appears that... you don’t have a room, Mr. Weir.” He seemed to cower from Johnny’s suddenly wrathful face._ _

__“Excuse me? What do you mean I don’t have a room. I’m here as part of the Champions on Ice tour. There must be a room booked for me.” Johnny’s tone was clipped and icy._ _

__“I- I know, Mr. Weir. There must have been an error. I assure you, this is our fault not yours. Let me check for another available room.”_ _

__The man tapped away at the keyboard for a few moments, eyes scanning the screen desperately. This time he definitely cringed._ _

__“Are you kidding me?! Is this some sort of joke? Did someone put you up to this, thinking it would be a laugh? Oh my god is this some sort of candid camera show like- like Punk’d or whatever?!” Johnny cried, feeling hysterical with exhaustion._ _

__“No-no sir! I assure you, this was an error on our part. I- I really do apologise. We can call up the closest hotel if you would like, to see if they have any rooms available?”_ _

__Johnny made an exasperated face at the man, who quickly got on the phone, dialling furiously. Johnny took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling and running a hand through his hair. Evan laid a careful hand on his shoulder which Johnny shrugged off in annoyance._ _

__“Don’t, Evan. Just- don’t.” Evan didn’t reply, just dropped his hand obediently, watching Johnny out of the corner of his eye._ _

__The man muttered quickly on the phone, chair turned away from the pair, hand covering his free ear. Finally he hung up and swallowed. “The closest two hotels are currently fully booked, Mr. Weir. But there is a motel with vacancy about thirty minutes west-”_ _

__“This is not happening!” Johnny exploded. He felt tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He was so tired and cold and it was late, and they had rehearsals to be at in the morning and he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep._ _

__Johnny blinked hard a few times and took a deep breath and turned to Evan. “Ok, ok. I’ll... I’ll call Tan. I’ll crash with her for tonight.”_ _

__“Tanith’s rooming with Charlie, remember? Fiancees and all that?” Evan reminded him gently._ _

__“Fuck. Right. Ok. Brian, then.” Johnny was entering his contacts list on his iPhone when he stopped abruptly. “Shit, Brian isn’t getting in til tomorrow morning, he took a red-eye...” Johnny scrolled frantically through his contacts list._ _

__“Johnny it’s after midnight,” came Evan’s voice._ _

__“So fucking what? What are you suggesting I do, sleep in a chair in the lobby? Go to a fucking _motel_?” Johnny didn’t bother looking up from his phone._ _

__“You can stay with me for tonight.”_ _

__Johnny abruptly stopped scrolling through his contacts list and looked up at Evan. “What?”_ _

__“It’s no big deal. You can just crash on the couch,” Evan said, placating._ _

__The man behind the desk chose that moment to speak up. “There are no couches in the rooms, I’m afraid.” Evan and Johnny’s combined glares could have peeled paint._ _

__“Ok then,” Evan swallowed nervously. “We can share a bed. Still not a big deal. It’s a queen.”_ _

__Johnny stared at him incredulously, then looked back down at his phone without seeing it. If someone had told him yesterday that within 24 hours Evan Lysacek would offer to share his bed with him, Johnny would have asked them what they’d been smoking. His automatic response was to brush him off, but the logical part of Johnny’s brain tamped down on the urge, reminding him that he wasn’t really in a position to be turning down acts of good will at the moment. Looking back up at Evan, Johnny noticed he seemed to be holding his breath waiting for a response. In his periphery, the man at the desk was watching anxiously as well._ _

__Johnny sighed in defeat, rubbing at his eyes. “Alright. Thank you.”_ _

__Evan audibly exhaled, flashing a weak smile. “Ok cool. Let’s go then.”_ _

__Johnny returned to the desk and reached over to retrieve his ID card sitting beside the keyboard icily. He glared at the man who fumbled to return it to him. “Again, I am very sorry about this sir,” he said in a rush. “Please be assured this will be rectified first thing in the morning. And I will do my best to upgrade your room for the inconvenience.”_ _

__Gathering his bags, Johnny turned to the man and fixed him with a dead stare. “See that you do,” he replied flatly, and followed Evan into the elevator. As the door closed in front of him, Johnny caught Evan’s wry smile and allowed the corners of his mouth to curl ever so slightly._ _


	2. Chapter 2

It took Evan four tries of jamming the card in the slot in the door while attempting to balance his duffel bag on one shoulder and feign off Johnny’s persistent ‘let me do it’s’ and grabby hands to get the green light. Finally they tumbled into the room in a mess of limbs and bags, uncoordinated with loose-limbed exhaustion. Johnny surveyed the room critically.

“Surely they could have done better,” he stated coolly.

“You hate every hotel in existence unless it has Sheraton or Radison or whatever in the title,” Evan remarked, moving past Johnny to drop his duffel in the closet nook and his suitcase around far side of the bed.

“I enjoy the assurance that my comforter doesn’t retain traces of bodily fluids on it,” Johnny rebuked flatly.

Evan simply snorted and dropped his laptop bag on the bed before returning to the closet to neatly toe off his shoes. Johnny sighed in a long-suffering manner and placed his skate bag next to Evan’s hockey duffel and dragged his own suitcase to the nearest side of the bed. Evan was already digging through the contents of his suitcase, locating his toiletries bag, a pair of sweatpants and a plain white cotton t-shirt. He disappeared into the bathroom, door closing with a gentle click.

Johnny sat down heavily on the bed, feeling muddled and overwhelmed. He was too tired to be properly upset over the whole situation, but he told himself firmly that it was just for tonight, and tomorrow night he’d probably be upgraded to one of the nicer suites. One with a duvet and a minibar, he hoped. Johnny wiggled his socked feet against the ugly teal patterned carpeting and tried to remember if he’d done something to deserve karmic wrath on this scale. 

Johnny heard Evan turn on the sink and begin brushing his teeth. It was only a couple hours, and with any luck he’d be unconscious 100% of the time. Evan began humming tunelessly, muffled by the wooden door. Johnny snorted and slid off the bed to kneel beside his suitcase, unzipping it and carefully searching around for what he needed before bed. Pulling up a sleeve that kept drooping over his hand, Johnny realised he was still cocooned in Evan’s coat. He stood up and removed it, hanging it neatly in the closet above their shoes and skating gear. The pearly white Team USA Vancouver 2010 badge winked at him in the pallid hotel room light. Johnny stared at it for a moment before being pulled out of his reverie by Evan singing something that sounded depressingly emo and ridiculous. Johnny scowled at the jacket, wondering if maybe Evan had worn it today as a subtle dig at Johnny, but immediately scoffed at the idea of Evan being subtle and strode back to his suitcase, mood deteriorating as it often did when he was overtired.

Johnny was waiting outside the bathroom door impatiently when Evan emerged, smelling minty with toothpaste and citrusy with face cleanser. Johnny elbowed past him into the bathroom. “Your singing sounds like a strangled goose,” he said unkindly, and shut the door on Evan’s confused face.

When he finally finished his pre-bedtime moisturising regime, Johnny found Evan already under the covers, a respectful amount of distance between him and the other set of pillows on the closer side of the bed, tapping away on a shiny silver macbook settled in his lap. He had turned off the overhead lights and turned on the lamps on each of the bedside tables. As he passed by it on his way to his suitcase, Johnny noticed Evan had adjusted his coat hanging in the closet, switching it to a different hanger. Johnny rolled his eyes and shoved his dirty clothes and toiletries back into his suitcase with uncharacteristic lack of organisation and crawled under the covers on his side of the bed without looking at Evan. He noticed Evan had his e-mail open and was composing a rather lengthy looking, surprisingly well-formatted letter, though he didn’t catch who it was addressed to before dropping heavily onto his back. 

Johnny jogged his bare legs up and down in the cold starchy sheets, trying to get some warm friction built up. He only ever wore underwear and a t-shirt to bed, and that was if he had to. But his apartment had heating and the radiator in the hotel room looked dubious at best. He envied Evan his warm sweatpants and jogged his legs a few more times before accidentally catching Evan’s eye who was staring at him in perplexed amusement. Johnny frowned and turned on his side, away from Evan, and reached out to turn the bedside lamp off with a loud click. He stared at the wall in front of him, listening to the gentle tapping of Evan’s fingers on his keyboard, trying to wiggle his toes discreetly to get the blood flowing.

About ten minutes later, the typing stopped for a good minute, followed by Evan sighing and closing the lid with a muted click. Johnny felt the bed shift as Evan placed the laptop on the floor beside the bed and reached over to off turn his own lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Evan laid down, drawing the covers up over himself, careful not to pull on Johnny’s half.

“Goodnight, Johnny,” came Evan’s voice, barely audible under the rattle of the radiator. 

Johnny didn’t respond, pretended to be asleep. The silence hung cloyingly in the air for a few long moments before Johnny heard Evan sigh in exasperation and shift under the covers. Figuring Evan was settling down to fall asleep, Johnny was startled when Evan’s hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him onto his back. 

“Why are you being such a bitch all of a sudden?” Evan demanded, eyes pinning Johnny. “I thought we were getting along. I wouldn’t have offered to help you out if I knew you were going to turn around and act like a little shit.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Really? You’d just fuck off and leave me?”

Evan began to reply hotly, but closed his mouth on the exhale. Johnny could see the tendons in his neck strain like he knew they did when Evan was trying to control his anger. He had seen it often in relation to himself over the years. “No,” came Evan’s reply, voice restrained. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Johnny rubbed his hands into his face in irritation. “We are _not_ friends, Evan. I appreciate you helping me out, I do. But please do not make this into us being friends all of a sudden. It’s a... an armistice if anything.”

“Look, I don’t want to have to spend the next two and a half months tip-toeing around you for fear of overstepping your ‘armistice’ boundaries.” Evan made little air-quotes, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“What _is_ this?! We’ve been like this for what, six years now? And now all of a sudden you’ve decided we should be friends again?” Johnny cried, incredulous. “You don’t even _know_ me anymore!”

“Well what if I want to! Forgive me if I so wrongly figured that maybe now that we’ve both retired from competitive skating and this whole stupid rivalry thing has died down that there was a chance we could, I don’t know, start over or whatever!” Evan propped himself up on an elbow, glaring down at Johnny. 

Disliking the feeling of having nowhere to look but at Evan, Johnny sat up as well. “This ‘stupid rivalry’ has been the prevailing story of my entire career, you idiot! It’s all well and good for you to decide that you’re done with it, you have the fucking medal!” He could feel himself shouting, losing control over his anger, but Johnny didn’t have the energy anymore to force himself to calm down.

“For fuck’s sake Evan, I don’t _want_ to know who you are anymore! I don’t even know who _I_ am anymore! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life! For the last decade and a half all I’ve done is skate. All I’ve done is compete. Against _you_!”

Johnny could see the anger had drained out of Evan, leaving him looking tired and hollow where moments ago he had radiated with repressed anger. Johnny knew it took a lot to get Evan’s back up. It wasn’t often they’d had real arguments; theirs had been a war built on politics and public manipulation, and no matter what anyone said, they were both very good at it. 

“I just. I didn’t- don’t know where to start anymore.” Evan sounded completely lost, something Johnny had never heard in his voice, ever.

Seeing the anger seep out of Evan made Johnny deflate as well. “Don’t. Don’t start with me, please. There’s too much between us, Evan. And while I can agree to being civil, even friendly, I don’t think I can do ‘friends.’ There’s just… too much.” 

“I can’t tell if apologising would make it better or worse,” Evan admitted.

Johnny ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know, Evan. I really don’t. I’ll tell you when I do, but I don’t know when or if that day will come. And I don’t know if I can do it either, apologise.”

Evan shook his head. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course I would have to. I have a part in this. I was just stupid enough to get as hurt as I did,” Johnny admitted quietly, something he’d only ever admitted to himself in his own head. He never thought he’d be admitting as much out loud to Evan.

Johnny could see Evan bite down on saying Johnny’s words had affected him too. Inside, Johnny smiled wryly. It was hard to deny that Evan had always been the one who knew when to shut up, for the most part anyways, leaving Johnny to dangle out on a clothes-wire with his nasty comments. But they both knew that there was more to it than what played out within hearing range and sight of the media. They’d genuinely been friends, at least twice. But the older they got, the more the media was willing to get behind the whole ‘arch-rivals’ aspect, really leaving no room for two abnormal little boys to make much of a lasting friendship. Everyone around them had told them to keep a competitive eye on each other, don’t get too close. When he looked back on it, it made Johnny sad. They were two boys who could have used a real friend, but the people around them had moulded their protégés very carefully, honed them into competitive machines, and perhaps the loss of that specific friend was very much a part of who they both grew into as skaters, and even as people.

He shook his head. It was all so horribly complicated and wrought with emotional land-mines and he definitely did not have the energy or mental capacity to deal with it at that moment, if ever. Johnny, who had been staring at the expanse of empty bed between them was struck again by the irony of the situation, flicking his eyes up to Evan’s. Evan looked tired, and sad, much like Johnny felt now that he wasn’t angry. 

“Evan, go to sleep. If we’re going to talk about this, it’s not going to be right now,” he said, not unkindly. “That’s not a promise that I will, though,” he added on for good measure.

Evan smiled crookedly. “I guess just... just tell me if and when.” He tucked his elbow under his body, lowering his head onto the pillows.

Johnny silently laid down onto his back. After a moment, he found the courage to voice his thoughts. “Does it make me a coward if I just want to run away from it and not deal with it? I don’t like feeling forced into things.” His voice wavered, but he figured he could blame it on tiredness. 

“I’m not trying to force you into anything. Believe it or not, I’m not good with antagonism. It makes me feel uncomfortable and I’d... I’d forgotten how bad it was, being away from it all this year. Maybe...” Evan hesitated briefly, and Johnny turned his head to meet his eyes. “Maybe now that we’re not competing you’ll feel better too.”

Johnny gave Evan a half-hearted smile. “Maybe.” He turned his head back towards the ceiling, staring at the stucco. “Now go to sleep. And if you steal the blankets I’ll kick you.” Evan smiled and closed his eyes, not turning away.

 

 

Johnny woke the next morning when a draft of cold air hit his sleep-warmed body. He curled in on himself, groaning, and groped at the covers to pull them back down as Evan got out of bed. Hearing Evan searching through his suitcase, Johnny groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Surely it wasn’t time to get up already?

Johnny felt the bed dip again and Evan’s warm breath puff against his face from above. Squinting one eye open, Evan’s face came slowly into focus. The room was still dark. “Hey.” Evan whispered. “It’s 7:00. I’m going for a run. Wanna come? Rehearsal starts at 10:00.”

Johnny shut his eye and heard the patter of rain on the window panes. His response was shoving the comforter over his head and giving Evan the finger. Evan laughed and crawled off the bed. “Ok then. I’ll be back in an hour to wake you up.”

Johnny heard Evan zipping up a jacket and grabbing his iPod. “Don’t even think of coming within five feet of me without showering, Lysacek.” Johnny’s voice was muffled by the comforter, but he heard Evan laugh again before the hotel room door clicked shut behind him. Johnny rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

 

“Johnny.” 

“Mmmmfff.”

“Hey. Wake up.”

“No.”

“I showered just for you.”

Johnny could smell the minty eucalyptus scent of Evan’s shower gel. “You’re creepy.”

“It’s 8:30, we can go get breakfast.”

Johnny didn’t respond.

“They have eeeeggs. And I found a Starbucks across the street,” Evan sing-songed.

Johnny loved eggs. And Starbucks. He groaned and kicked at the sheets wrapped in a vice around his body. His foot connected with something solid and there was a loud thump and a curse word or three. Johnny managed to disentangle the top half of his body and found Evan on the floor beside the bed nursing a red looking jaw.

Johnny peered down at Evan crankily. “I hate you.”

“I see this,” Evan replied drily and stretched his jaw side to side, looking slightly deranged.

Extricating the rest of his legs from the sheets, Johnny stretched luxuriously, grunting at the pop in his spine, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Evan looked up at him and went slightly red.

“Are you even wearing any bottoms?”

Johnny looked down his body. The overly large black t-shirt he was wearing covered up the briefs he had on. He looked back at Evan, grinning deviously. “Does that make you uncomfortable, Evan?”

Evan blanched, mouth slightly open, gaze caught somewhere around Johnny’s navel, halfway between his bare legs and his face. Johnny rolled his eyes. “You idiot. Of course I am. Why would I go to bed half naked with you.” Johnny stood up to reveal the underwear, which just seemed to make Evan blush harder.

Evan stood up unsteadily and turned away, leaning to check his jaw in the mirror above the dresser on the opposite wall from the bed. “That hurt,” he informed Johnny.

Johnny ignored him and dug through his suitcase for something to wear before deciding to just change into his practice gear now since they would just be heading to the rink across the street as soon as they’d eaten. He turned to Evan. “Go make yourself useful and get us some coffee while I shower. Venti non-fat no-foam half-sweet vanilla latte, please.”

Evan looked at him blankly. “Venti non-... what?” 

“Write it down,” Johnny said shortly, locating his shampoo and conditioner and depositing his armload in the bathroom. 

After writing down the order on the pad of paper from the desk and shooing Evan out the door, Johnny stepped into a blessedly hot shower, taking a few minutes to just stand in the steady jet of water. He was still exhausted, but he told himself he’d feel better once he was showered and had had his latte.

45 minutes later Johnny finally emerged, face scrubbed, hair dried, dressed head to toe in tight stretchy black practice gear. Evan had made the bed and was sitting with his back propped up against the headboard, drinking his coffee and typing one-handed on his laptop. He glanced up at Johnny over the rim of his cup lid and nodded his head to where Johnny found his latte steaming invitingly on top of a coaster on the desk. 

“Thanks,” Johnny said, taking a sip and humming in enjoyment.

Evan shrugged and set his coffee on the bedside, returning to typing. After tidying up his things (he hoped he would be relocating to his new room the next time he was in here), Johnny told Evan he was going down for breakfast. Evan ‘hmmm’ed and continued with his typing.

“I said, _breakfast_ , Lysacek. Come on.”

Evan looked up. “Nah it’s ok. I can just make myself a protein shake. I bought a bottle of milk at the gas station beside the Starbucks.”

Johnny gave Evan a look. “Don’t be stupid. We have a full day of rehearsals. And besides, it’s the off season. Come on, there’ll be those shitty cafeteria style scrambled eggs that are all rubbery but somehow delicious.”

 

Evan put up a fight but eventually found himself in tow behind Johnny, skate bags over one shoulder and coffees in hand. They were late to breakfast it seemed, and Johnny had forgotten the fact that he was excited to see everyone in wake of the previous day’s events. Dropping his bag at the door with the pile of other bags, Johnny strode into Tanith’s open arms, followed immediately by Sasha, who he hadn’t seen in ages. Over Sasha’s shoulder Johnny could see Evan getting bear-hugged by Jeff Buttle. Finally released, Johnny was ushered into an empty seat next to Tanith. To her left was Charlie who smiled warmly at Johnny. To Johnny’s right sat Meryl, and opposite him sat Sasha and Ben. 

Barely finished his hello’s, Johnny heard a delighted screech and was immediately accosted and plastered by a very familiar young woman. “Ksusha!” Johnny laughed, hugging her to his chest and burying his face in her wheat blonde hair. 

“Oh my god Johnny, Kurt told us you had to room with Evan last night, that is so messed up why didn’t you call me!?” she rabbled excitedly

“It was past midnight, Ksusha! Don’t think I forgot about the time I made the mistake of calling you that night at eleven o’clock,” Johnny reasoned, prying her arms from around his neck. 

His table mates offered exaggeratedly serious condolences for his night of suffering as Ksenia pulled up a chair between Johnny and Meryl. 

Johnny waved them off gravely, drawling “No, he might be good for something after all. He _did_ get us coffee after his suicide run through the freezing rain this morning.” Johnny indicated to the still pleasantly steaming cup in front of him and slapped Ksenia’s hand away when she attempted to sneakily take a sip.

Evan caught Johnny’s eye over Scott Moir’s shoulder from the table across from Johnny’s, narrowing his eyes as if he somehow knew Johnny was talking about him. Johnny put on his most innocent face and Evan visibly snorted and returned to his conversation with Joannie and Mirai. Johnny took a moment to look around the rest of the room, catching a nod from an extremely tired looking Brian Joubert sitting next to his countryman Florent Amodio. Also at their table were Adam and Jeremy who waved at him brightly. On the table at Johnny’s other side sat Mao, Daisuke and Yu-Na. They seemed to be deep in conversation in Japanese, Yu-Na following along as best she could and Daisuke and Mao pointing out words here and there to her. Catching Johnny’s eye, Yu-Na rolled her eyes and gave wink. Johnny blew her a kiss in return.

Johnny excused himself to visit the buffet table. As he ladled the fluffy clumps of scrambled eggs onto his plate, a soft voice came from close to his ear. “These better be as good as you promised.” 

Johnny’s head snapped to the right, catching Evan’s eye. “Seriously, Lysacek. Creepy. Tall and gangly and creepy.” 

Evan threw a piece of egg into Johnny’s hair. He removed it immediately under the cowing glare Johnny gave him. Moving along, Johnny hummed in pleasure. “Egg yolks. I can’t believe they’re feeding us egg yolks. If there are hashbrowns I can’t be held reliable.” 

There were, of course. Greasy and crispy and golden brown. Johnny made himself take just one. He vowed to himself that he was only eating salad at lunch. Reaching the end of the line, he allowed himself a tiny dash of salt on his eggs and snagged a glass of apple juice. 

About to return to his table, Johnny caught sight of Evan pouring syrup on his eggs. “What are you doing!?” Johnny cried. “You’re ruining them! Oh my god stop it, they’re just eggs, what did they ever do to you?!”

Evan turned wide eyes on Johnny. “What? Jeff showed me it. It’s delicious!”

Johnny stared at his plate in horror. “You should be arrested, Evan Lysacek. For crimes against scrambled eggs.”

Evan rolled his eyes at Johnny’s dramatics and continued pouring. “You are ridiculous.” 

Johnny made the saddest face he could manage and looked longingly at the syrupy mess Evan had made of his eggs. “Fine. Return to your... your northern heathens.” 

They both turned to head back to their tables and realised the whole room had gone rather silent aside from the asian contingent, still lost in their conversation. Most of their friends’ eyes were on them, in slight alarm. Evan cleared his throat nervously.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at their audience. “Oh please. I think since we both managed to not end up in a skate-related homicide last night we’ll be ok.” Johnny returned to his table, sashaying gracefully as Evan muttered under his breath and shuffled back to his own seat.

 

As Johnny was shrugging on his jacket, Kurt found him and rushed over. Johnny greeted him with a hug and asked him how everything was running so far. Kurt waved off his questions, concern written on his face. “Johnny I want to apologise for what happened last night, I feel terrible. You should have called me.”

Johnny shook his head. “There was nothing you could have done, Kurt. You heard them, the hotel was full.”

“Still,” Kurt sighed, rubbing the top of his balding head. “Well I assure you that it has been worked out. They’re offering you one of the VIP suites for the rest of your stay for the inconvenience. They’re just waiting for their current guest to clear out by eleven and then to clean it. Apparently there was a misunderstanding on their part. Our booking agent explained clearly to them earlier this week that we needed another room added on, but for some reason they kicked you out of your room and gave it to the addition.” Kurt shook his head.

Johnny nodded in understanding, relief flooding through him, along with yearning for the sure-to-be softer, comfier bed.

“Anyhow, I’m glad you two got in safely. I’ll have Meredith bring you your new keys this afternoon so you can move your things up after lunch.” Kurt named one of the assistants to the tour manager. 

Kurt turned to go after apologising again. Johnny caught him just as he was about to round the door out of sight. “Kurt, wait! Who was the addition?”

Kurt grinned. A pair of arms wrapped around Johnny from behind, a chin resting on his shoulder. “I am afraid I am the cause of your troubles, Johnny.”

Johnny whirled around into Stephane’s arms. “What are you doing here?!” Johnny cried, crushing Stephane in his arms.

“Johnny,” Stephane gasped. “Johnny I cannot breathe.”

Johnny let go, grinning at his longtime friend. “I didn’t see your name on the roster.”

“It isn’t. My schedule opened up and Kurt called and asked if I would like to come and help with choreography.” Stephane beamed. In the last two years Stephane had been getting steady work for his choreography, incidentally choreographing the routines that had won Ksenia her surprising silver at Nationals just a few months prior.

“Will you be skating in the show at all?” Johnny asked.

Stephane waggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps. Kurt is asking me to, though I am not sure yet. Perhaps periodically. I cannot stay with you once you head to Japan though, I must go back to Lausanne for my sister’s wedding.”

Johnny nodded, excited that Stephane would be joining them at least for a while. Stephane hurried him out the door as they were running short on time before rehearsal started and they still needed to get to the rink and get their skates on. They chatted easily as they jogged down the block and across the street to the rink, Stephane holding a large umbrella for them both.

Stephane spent the jog commiserating with Johnny over the last 24 hours. “Was it truly awful, Johnny? If it were not so horrible it would almost be funny.” Stephane grinned toothily.

Johnny laughed and turned thoughtful. “It wasn’t really so bad. I do think it’s funny, actually. He was good to me, though,” he admitted grudgingly. “He knowingly gave me that seat on the plane and then offered his room up to me. I can’t really say anything that bad about him, though he does snore a bit and his shoes smell like a raccoon died in them.” Johnny made a disgusted face.

“And did you see the way he drowned his eggs in syrup?!” Johnny continued, shaking his head. “Really, someone needs to tell those Canadians to stop filling him with such ridiculous notions. Scott should know better.”

Stephane shook his head sombrely as well. “I hear they put maple syrup on everything. Patrick once told me about putting syrup on a steak.”

Johnny mimed vomiting. “Blame Chanada.”


	3. Chapter 3

The first hour of their practice was mostly spent tossing ideas around about group routines. Johnny was excited to see two more familiar faces in the group of four choreographers. David Wilson was always one of his favorites, and he had known Marina Anissina for many years. Although he didn’t know her personally, Johnny recognized Lori Nichol, the fourth choreographer, as Evan’s longtime choreographer, and knew she had worked with many of the other skaters present.

Kurt informed them that they would each get to skate their solos at least four or five out of six nights a week on rotation. Trying to fit everyone in plus group numbers would be a logistical nightmare, seeing as though Kurt had big plans for group pieces. There would be the full ensemble ones like in every show, he explained to the skaters, but he also wanted to do some smaller pieces with two to six skaters. These group numbers would be a mixed bag of story-telling pieces, show pieces and artistic pieces in varied groups of gender and size. Johnny began to understand why they were called in 5 days before the first show, and not the cursory one or two at best that it usually took to throw together some group opening and closing pieces. It was nice to see Kurt taking the old COI method and expanding, instead of following the in SOI’s footsteps, and that of various other international shows.

After volleying ideas around, nixing others, and offering some of their own, the skaters took the ice to warm up for what was always the least enjoyable part: the opening routine. Meanwhile, Kurt, Stephane, Marina, Lori and the tour manager Alex left the rink to go finalise the smaller pieces. Johnny was relieved to see David remain, knowing that at least the opening number would be fun. 

 

By one o’clock they had mostly finalised the routine, heading to the benches to peel off their skates. David informed them they’d be back at it after lunch, and concluding the day with the closing routine. “So don’t any of you dare go eating anything greasy for lunch. If I smell McDonald’s on any of you when you get back here there will be hell to pay! Salads, people! Chicken salads for everyone!”

Thus the group of skaters ignored the lunch-buffet open in the hotel’s dining room and stuck forlornly to the salad bar. Though Johnny could have sworn he saw Scott and Charlie ducking behind the buffet cart carrying an enormous heated metal tub of macaroni and cheese, and they were suspiciously absent from the table for a good ten minutes. Ksenia, sitting beside Johnny, inhaled her salad as usual and was waving Johnny off to go get a shower by the time 1:30 rolled around. As she left, Stephane promptly rejoined the group and took Ksenia’s vacant chair. 

“How’s the choreo coming?” Johnny asked between mouthfuls.

“Very well, we have some ideas I am quite excited to see put into action.” Stephane nodded enthusiastically. “You are most popular, Johnny, David and Marina and I are all fighting over you for our pieces.”

Johnny preened. “Well, I do suppose I am one of the bigger names on the roster. And they are my old choreographers so it’s no surprise. What am I getting so far?”

Stephane ticked off his fingers as he went through the list. “Well there is a piece Marina is wanting that includes you, Jeremy, Daisuke, Sasha, Ksenia and Mirai. As well as one David would like to do with you and Sasha, and one with you, Adam and Brian. But we have told him very sternly he may only have one of these, so I am thinking he will choose you and Sasha because Lori would like to include you in a piece with Jeff, Evan and Yu-Na.” Stephane glanced up from drizzling a careful amount of dressing onto his salad. “And then there is the piece which I am planning for you.”

Johnny was about to inquire about the piece when Kurt came up, squatting down between Johnny and Stephane’s chair and wincing as his knees popped. “Johnny, I just spoke to the concierge and they haven’t quite finished preparing your new room; I guess the last guest was late clearing out. But we’ll definitely have a new key for you before dinner and you can move your things up after that, ok?”

Johnny nodded and thanked Kurt, pleased to have someone heading this tour-de-force that genuinely liked him and whom he liked in return. Spotting Adam yawning widely a few chairs down, Johnny couldn’t help but yawn himself. Checking his watch, he decided he still had time for a nap, and he could see Evan talking to Mirai, probably giving her a pep-talk in Frank’s absence. Johnny distinctively saw Evan’s mouth form the words “150%” and Johnny vowed to give Evan a talking to about not ruining young minds just because his own was unsalvageable. He excused himself from Stephane who had turned and was speaking to Brian anyways, and made his way over to where Evan was seated.

Evan had his back turned to Johnny’s approach but followed Mirai’s eyeline up to Johnny. “Hey, Evan, they’re not done with setting up my new room, do you mind if I go upstairs and have a nap?” Mirai giggled but it was quickly stifled when both men turn A Look on her. 

“Yeah, sure,” Evan replied easily. “I forgot the extra key in the room so I’ll go up with you. I need to finish an e-mail anyways.”

Johnny was about to tell Evan to forget it, because honestly he was hoping for a little alone time, but Evan was already out of his chair, apologising to Mirai. She waved him off, saying in a meaningful tone, “Remember what we talked about, Evan.” Evan glared at her before ushering Johnny out of the double doors ahead of him. 

“What was that about?” Johnny asked curiously, peering over Evan’s shoulder at Mirai who was wiggling her fingers in an overly cutesy wave at their retreating backs. 

“Nothing. Let’s go.” Evan practically dragged Johnny down the hall to the elevators.

Johnny huffed. “Alright you neanderthal, I’m going. Stop manhandling me.” 

“Sorry.” Evan released Johnny’s arm from his grip. “Mirai was being weird.”

“Right,” Johnny replied drily, rubbing his abused bicep. “Because you’re totally normal.”

The elevator door slid open and they stepped inside. “You’re just as weird as me,” Evan pointed out.

Scoffing, Johnny replied, “I don’t think so. Me? I’m quirky. Eccentric. You’re weird.” Johnny strode off the elevator as the doors opened, Evan in his wake.

Evan pulled the keycard out of his back pocket and opened the door, holding it for Johnny to go first. Johnny gave him a withering look as he walked past. “What, no ‘ladies first?’”

Evan looked at him blankly. “But you’re not a lady.”

Johnny gave him a dead look and clapped his hands. “Well done.”

Johnny could hear Evan begin to form a confused response so he cut him off by retreating into the bathroom to brush his teeth, closing the door with a pointed click. He only remembered once he was inside that his toothbrush and toothpaste were in his suitcase. Johnny rolled his eyes at himself in the mirror and washed his hands instead. 

Evan was removing his socks and rolling up his sweatpants as his laptop booted up beside him when Johnny emerged. He was in the same position propped against the headboard as the previous night. Johnny sort of wished Evan would go sit at the desk like a normal person, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t his room and Evan could just as easily kick him out. So he swallowed his words and made his way over to the bed, sitting on the edge and bending over to unzip his suitcase to retrieve his sleep shirt. Johnny pulled the black sweater he was wearing from practice off, folding it and placing it neatly on top of the suitcase.

“We need twenty minutes to get to the rink and get our skates on, can you wake me at ten after three? Or if you leave, can you set the alarm?” Johnny asked, not bothering to look around as he peeled the leg warmers off and shimmied out of his black leggings, folding them as well and setting them on top of the sweater.

When Evan didn’t reply, Johnny pulled the t-shirt over his head and turned to face Evan, who was staring intently at the blinking cursor on his word document. “Hello? Did you hear me?” Johnny leaned over and waved a hand in front of Evan’s face. “Have you powered down or something? Do I need to click the ‘on’ switch?”

Evan appeared to recover, giving himself a small shake before meeting Johnny’s gaze. “Yeah, got it. Sure thing.” 

Johnny eyed his slightly flushed cheeks suspiciously, before shaking his head and flopping onto his back, wiggling his way under the sheets. Allowing himself to take up more than half the bed since Evan was sitting neatly on top of the comforter, Johnny was asleep within minutes.

 

When Johnny woke, it took him a few sleep muddled moments to realise what had drawn him from his nap. He blinked his eyes open and tried to sit up but something was weighing him down. Looking over to his right, Johnny immediately jerked back as his nose brushed Evan’s. He looked down his body to find Evan’s right arm tossed haphazardly across his stomach. Johnny lay there for a few moments, stiff as a board, before trying to ease Evan’s arm off of him. Evan just grunted and rolled further into Johnny’s space, face pressed to Johnny’s neck. Johnny’s shoulder automatically jerked up at the feeling of Evan’s breath ghosting across his neck, connecting solidly along Evan’s already abused jaw. 

Evan startled awake, groaned, and mumbled, “Owwww why are you so violent?”

He didn’t receive a reply so Evan promptly began to fall back asleep. “ _Evan_ ,” Johnny said pointedly, staring up at the ceiling.

Evan mumbled something incoherent again before taking a deep breath, only to breathe a good chunk of Johnny’s hair on the nape of his neck up his nose. Evan sneezed all over Johnny’s neck.

“OH GROSS! GET OFF OF ME!” Johnny screeched and writhed within Evan’s grip over his middle. 

Evan’s head finally popped up, hair mussed and in complete disarray. “What! What happened?!”

“You _sneezed_ on my _neck_ you disgusting ape!” Johnny squirmed again, glaring up at Evan who was now resting about half his body weight on Johnny.

Evan looked down at him in surprise. “Why are you cuddling with me?”

Johnny thought his head might explode if this continued much longer. “If you use your eyes,” he spat venomously, “you’ll notice that _you_ are the one cuddling _me_!” 

Evan seemed to finally notice his arm and the fact that he was half draped on Johnny while Johnny remained flat on his back. “Oh. Um... sorry. I-”

Johnny cut him off. “Shut up. Shut up and get off of me I cannot breathe.”

Evan rolled his body to sit upright, taking his weight off Johnny. Johnny massaged his stomach gingerly; for someone as thin and gangly as Evan, he sure weighed a lot. Evan rubbed at his eyes, looking around in confusion. His laptop was resting open on the side of the bed he was _supposed_ to be occupying. 

“I must have drifted off while typing, I was really tir-” Johnny looked over at why Evan had stopped mid-sentence. He was looking at the clock on his bedside. It was 4:03 and they were half an hour late for rehearsal.

“Shit shit shit _shit!_ ” Johnny scrambled out of bed and threw his shirt off, climbing hurriedly back into his practice gear. 

He was dressed by the time Evan had stopped dithering uselessly, panicking back and forth trying to get his shoes and jacket on at the same time. Johnny threw Evan’s skate bag at him, shouldered his own, clamped down firmly on Evan’s wrist and towed him out of the room. 

Evan was a ball of nervous energy waiting for the elevator to come up. “Let’s just take the stairs,” he said breathlessly, shifting from foot to foot and shaking his hands out.

Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re on the 14th floor, Lysacek. We’re not taking the stairs.” Evan began jogging on the spot, eyes fixed on the lit up ‘down’ button on the wall next to the elevator. “And if you don’t stop that I’m going to kill you.”

Evan stopped the jogging, but continued to shake his limbs out, rolling his shoulder and neck loosely. “Sorry. It’s just. I’m never late for things.”

Johnny momentarily closed his eyes in relief as the elevator dinged its arrival, doors whooshing open smoothly. Evan bolted inside ahead of Johnny, stabbing at ‘L’ and the button to close the doors viciously as Johnny stepped in as well. As soon as the doors opened to the lobby they took off at a run, Evan nearly slamming into the automatic doors at the front of the building as they couldn’t keep up with his speed. Out on the street, the torrent of rain drenched them by the time they were halfway down the block.

“Fuck, I hate you so much!” Johnny shouted with feeling, eyes fixed on the rink across the street.

“I know. I hate me too. I’m so sorry Johnny. I didn’t mean-”

“Oh my god, Evan! Stop speaking! Never speak to me again,” Johnny huffed as they managed to spring a bit of luck and catch the pedestrian light just in time.

Evan wisely kept quiet the rest of the way up the steps to the building and inside. Johnny was already unzipping his skate bag as they flew into the rink. They dropped their bags on the ground at the nearest bench and hurriedly pulled out the various pads and bandages they wore, placing and wrapping them as fast as they could. Finishing lacing up his skates, Johnny grabbed a fresh towel from his bag and gave his hair a vigorous rub, trying to get it as dry as possible in the cool rink. He tossed it at Evan’s head and pulled his leg-warmers down over his skate boots, Evan giving his hair the same rough treatment. Removing their skate guards, they trotted over to the nearest gate and out onto the ice to where the rest of the group was practicing a formation spiral. 

“So nice of you to join us, gentlemen!” David’s voice rang out from the head of the group on the far side of where Johnny and Evan approached. “As lovely as it is to see you two...” His eyes swept them head to toe. “ _bonding_ , perhaps you could do it at a time that doesn’t interfere rehearsal?”

Johnny heard giggles that definitely sounded like they belonged to Mirai and Ksenia, and cringed at his and Evan’s disheveled, out-of-breath appearance. “This is completely Evan’s fault,” Johnny said loudly.

“Oh I’m very sure it is!” David responded gleefully. Evan went red to to tips of his ears and Johnny was thankful he was already bright red from running and the cold.

“Ina Bauer into a Fan Spiral, boys! Into position. Music!” David’s voice rang. At Mao’s motioning, Johnny skated over to his place at her right and Evan to his place next to Meryl. Johnny threw Evan a death glare before falling into step with Mao.

 

 

Johnny was beat by the end of the rehearsal. They’d made good time, getting both the opening and closing pieces completed, but his body was no longer used to being on the ice for over five hours a day. He took some satisfaction in the fact that even Evan winced as he shouldered his skate bag, rolling his shoulder and shifting his hips. As they left the rink, Johnny lagged behind, waiting for people to finish asking David questions so he could go and properly apologise. He was a professional, after all. He was slightly annoyed that Evan was already there, hovering behind David’s shoulder as he assured Daisuke that they would each get time to practice their solo exhibition pieces between now and the first show.

Daisuke went trotting off after the others and Johnny swooped in, coming up to walk beside David as he left the rink. “Hey David, I’m really sorry about being late.”

“Johnny was telling the truth, it was my fault.” Evan had come up on David’s other side, flanking him.

David glanced between the two taller skaters dubiously. “Is this a hit or something? I feel like I’m about to be escorted into the back of a van. Just, if you blindfold me, please no polyblend. I have sensitive skin.”

Laughing, Johnny shook his head.

“We really are sorry though, David. It won’t happen again,” Evan said earnestly.

David guffawed and waved them off. “Alright alright, you’re forgiven. Now off with you, I need to make a phone call,” he said kindly, digging in his pockets for his phone.

David slowed his speed, dialling his phone and Johnny and Evan continued on without him. Johnny noticed Evan kept trying to make eye-contact with him, but he resolutely kept his eyes pointed forward and pretended like he didn’t see Evan’s looming face in his periphery. They returned to Evan’s room, Johnny not having been able to find Kurt to see if his own room was ready yet, and showered and changed before going down to dinner. They all ate off the menu that night, Johnny resolutely ordering steamed chicken with lemon juice and herbs, sided by barley rice, though he did steal a few bites of Charlie’s mashed potatoes and gravy, telling himself he was doing Charlie a favour after that afternoon’s macaroni hijinks.

He was sharing Tanith’s fruit salad dessert with her when Meredith, one of the tour assistants came up, bearing the very welcome gift of Johnny’s new key cards. He thanked her profusely.

“I can’t believe they’re giving you the VIP suite, you lucky bitch. I bet there’s a king size bed and everything. You better invite me up to partake in your mini-bar,” Tanith warned.

“Absolutely. Just not tonight. I want to move my stuff up and pass out,” Johnny replied apologetically.

Tanith nodded in agreement, complaining about her knees aching. Johnny was commiserating when he noticed Evan leave his seat beside Tessa and make his way out of the room. He excused himself from Tanith and hurried after Evan who still had the only key. 

He caught up just as Evan was stepping in the elevator. “Hey. I got my keys so I can move my stuff up to my suite now.” 

“Oh, ok. Cool.” Evan pressed the button for the 14th floor as the doors slid shut behind them. “So am I allowed to talk to you again?”

Johnny gave him a disapproving look before heaving a sigh. “I suppose it’s inevitable, so yes. But we’re still not friends, Lysacek,” Johnny reminded him, wagging a finger in front of Evan’s nose. “Especially not after you infected my neck by plastering it with your germs. I think I scrubbed my neck raw in the shower.”

Evan peered at the side of Johnny’s neck curiously. “It’s all red. You look like you have a giant hickey.”

“Oh perfect.” Johnny stamped his foot, making the elevator jiggle as it ascended. “Yeah, never mind, you’re not allowed to talk to me again.”

Evan steadfastly ignored this order. “Why?”

“Evan, everyone’s gonna think _you_ gave me a hickey, you dick.” 

“What?!” Evan yelped. 

“Did you miss the memo when David alluded to us being late because we were having a quickie?” Johnny cupped his hand against his neck. Turtleneck tomorrow. Definitely a turtleneck.

The door opened and they exited the elevator, Evan walking annoyingly close to Johnny’s heels. “But he was just joking. Wasn’t he? Everyone knows you hate me,” Evan said sounding completely serious.

Johnny turned his head to look at Evan and sighed in defeat. “I don’t hate you, Evan. I know I might act like I do, but I don’t. You’re just... you’re just such an idiot sometimes. You’re so frustrating.”

Evan met his gaze evenly. “You’re the most frustrating person I know.” He turned away momentarily to get the card in the door. “More frustrating than my mom.”

Johnny’s eyebrows knit. “Oh thanks.”

This time, Evan pushed the door open, wide enough for both of them, and lead the way in. “You are. I can never figure you out. I never know the right thing to say around you. You make me feel stupid.” He didn’t sound angry, but Johnny knew this wasn’t normally something Evan would readily admit to.

Johnny didn’t really know how to respond to that. He felt slightly bad, though, because he knew he talked down to Evan and treated him like he was stupid, so it was no wonder he felt that way. Johnny’s wrapped his arms around himself defensively, rubbing them gently. He meant to say he was sorry, but what came out was, “I don’t mean to.” 

Evan snorted. “Yes you do.” Which was true, so Johnny shut up. “I’m not asking you to apologise, I’m just saying. Maybe you could be a little more aware of how you talk to me.” Johnny noticed Evan was pointedly not looking at Johnny at all, preoccupied with gathering up his socks and underwear and practice shirt into his laundry bag. Johnny figured Evan looking him in the eye would probably cause his courage to falter. He knew Evan was pretty, non-confrontational, unlike himself.

“Um. Sure, ok,” Johnny agreed uncertainly. “But don’t take it the wrong way if I’m not very good at it. I’ll try. It’s just, it’s been this way for so many years.” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Evan smiled crookedly. “Anyways, whatever. Just think about it.”

Johnny hummed in response, feeling awkward, and distinctly uncomfortable with Evan having the upper hand of the conversation. He busied himself with gathering up the few toiletries he had left in the bathroom after his shower and collecting his sleep shirt that hung haphazardly off the bedposts after he flung it off in a panic that afternoon. He tucked his belongings neatly into his suitcase and zipped it closed, standing it upright and pulling out the handle. He wheeled it to the door and shouldered his skate bag with a grunt.

Johnny balanced the skate bag on his back so he could bend down and pick up the smaller suitcase. “Ok well, th-”

“Do you need help taking your stuff up?”

Johnny glanced up in surprise, Evan had come over with his bag of laundry, placing it in the closet nook. “No, I’ve got it.” He bent down and grabbed hold of the smaller bag, but as soon as he straightened he felt his knees buckle under him.

“Woah!” Evan’s arm was immediately around him, holding him steady while he saved Johnny’s foot with his other arm from the second bag falling on it.

“Shit. Shit, sorry.” Johnny regained his balance, going red with embarrassment. “I’m really exhausted.”

Evan just chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll help you up to your room.”

Evan tried his best to wrestle Johnny’s skate bag off his shoulder as well, but was eventually mollified by Johnny’s compromise to let him take the bigger suitcase. “This is what you get for over-packing, you know.”

“Oh please. You don’t want to know what over-packing looks like for me. This is me being very, very good,” Johnny replied sardonically.

They took the elevator up to the 19th floor, just below the highest floor where Johnny imagined the presidential suite or whatever they called it here was. Johnny pulled out the mini-envelope containing his new keycards in it and inserted one into the door. Evan let out a low whistle as Johnny swung the door open in a wide arc.

“Fuck yes!” Johnny cried, leaving his bags at the door and striding into the sitting area. “There’s an actual bedroom!” 

Evan pushed Johnny’s abandoned bags out of his way so he could get in as well, then closed the door behind himself. He carefully placed Johnny’s skate bag into the closet (it was an actual closet with an actual door). The main room was bright and lined on one wall with floor-to-ceiling windows, boasting much more modern furnishings than the economy rooms. A plush looking black module couch made a V facing away from the windows, towards the nearest left corner which had a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Johnny made a bee-line for the bedroom.

“Oh my goooddd, this bed. Evan come see this bed. Six people could sleep on this bed!”

Towing Johnny’s main suitcase and carrying the smaller in the other hand, Evan entered the bedroom that was dominated by an enormous king size bed with a down filled duvet that Johnny was busy draping himself in like a gigantic voluminous white cape. Evan sat the suitcases down alongside the wall and walked around the bed. Johnny flopped onto his back, wiggling his body into the deep folds of the duvet. 

“Holy shit. I might come from how amazing this bed feels after the last 48 hours,” Johnny groaned.

“Yeah, gross.” Evan made a face and experimentally pushed a hand down. It sunk elbow-deep in duvet and soft mattress. “You’re going to end up drowning in feathers.”

Johnny sighed. “That sounds like heaven, actually.” 

Johnny reached out and seized Evan’s forearm and pulled, knocking Evan off balance so he face-planted into the pillowy softness. “You’re trying to kill me, is that it?” Evan asked as he managed to find his way out of the fluff. 

“Oh shut up. Lie on your back and feel how good this is,” Johnny ordered lazily.

Evan obediently rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, his body sink into softness. “This is so unfair. I was just as inconvenienced as you by this.” Evan wrestled the pockets of feathers blocking Johnny’s face from him flat.

“Mmmm not my problem,” came the dreamy reply. Johnny’s eyes were closed in bliss, lips curved in a smile. 

Evan sighed and sprawled out. The bed was big enough that they could both do so comfortably. The only light came from the bathroom that Johnny had briefly salivated over before getting distracted by the bed. Johnny peripherally watched Evan turn his head away from Johnny toward another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, curtains parted to display Chicago’s gently flickering lights. The rain pattered rhythmically against the windows. 

“You’ve gone all quiet,” Johnny remarked. Evan looked back over to find Johnny propped up on one elbow, watching him curiously. 

“My old house was not too far from here. If I looked hard, I could probably see it from this high up.” Evan smiled gingerly. “I miss the rain in California. I used to fall asleep listening to it here.”

Johnny turned over on his stomach and hunched over his elbows patting down the duvet in front of him to watch it puff back up again. Evan looked back out the windows. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Johnny followed his gaze, scanning the view. “Every city looks pretty at night.” 

Evan didn’t respond, just kept watching out the windows. Johnny stared at Evan’s profile in the dim lighting. He had all the same features Johnny remembered as a teenager; fluffy hair that badly needed a cut or style or _something_ , big dark brown eyes framed by dark lashes, high cheekbones, strong greek nose, perpetual shadow of stubble, though maybe that hadn’t been there for as many years. He looked grown up though, like a man. Johnny looked in the mirror and still saw a boy for all that he was 27. Generally speaking, he loved that he still looked young. But he felt somewhat unsettled that somewhere in the last six years, Evan had visibly grown into a man, while he wondered if he still looked like 20-year-old Johnny to Evan. He didn’t _feel_ 27\. 27 sounded so... old. Late twenties. Soon-to-be-thirties. Johnny frowned and sat up.

“Evan.” Johnny shifted his body alongside Evan’s ribcage, though Evan didn’t seem to notice much. “Evan look at me.” Johnny reach down and framed Evan’s face in his hands, staring down at him intently.

Evan blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up. How old do you think I am.”

Evan’s brow furrowed. “I know how old you are, you’re 27. One year older than me.”

“No, no. I mean, how old do you think I look. Like if you were a stranger,” Johnny explained patiently.

Evan opened his mouth and closed it, eyes skimming Johnny’s face for an indeterminate length of time. “Is... there a wrong answer here?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Evan. It’s not that complicated.”

“Are you having some sort of age crisis here?” Evan inquired. “Because if you are, don’t even start with me. I look like I’m 36.”

“What?” Johnny laughed automatically. “Don’t be ridiculous. I look like I’m still sixteen.”

“Well I guess between the two of us we make one correctly aged person then,” Evan replied flatly.

“You think I look like I’m sixteen?”

“What? I didn’t even say that.”

“Yeah but you didn’t disagree,” sniffed Johnny.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Well I do. You don’t look sixteen.” 

“Then how old do I look?”

“I don’t know. Twenty... three?” he said carefully.

“Are you sure?” Johnny narrowed his eyes down at him.

“Y-” Evan’s eyes darted away from Johnny, looking for an escape route should this prove to be the wrong answer. “Yes?”

Johnny stared down into Evan’s face for a long moment, expression inscrutable before sighing. “Ok I’ll accept that I guess.”

“What about me, how old do I look?” 

“27? I don’t know. You look like a man,” Johnny answered forlornly. 

Evan stared up at Johnny, eyebrow raised. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Whatever,” Johnny sulked. 

“Stop being a baby. You’re really pretty and you look like an adult, not a kid.”

Johnny’s expression stayed determinedly pouty for a few moments before crumbling into a somewhat begrudging smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.” Evan smiled up at him brightly, pleased that his compliment had lightened Johnny’s mood. “Now go away, unless you feel like sharing a bed again.”

Evan scowled and sat up, Johnny’s hands dropping away from his face. He stared at the puffy folds of soft duvet around them and grinned at Johnny. “Well, now tha-”

“No, stop. Shut up. I take it back. That was not an invitation. Out, Lysacek.”

Evan laughed and pushed himself upright with some trouble. Solid ground felt rather disappointing after floating on feathers. He took a moment to turn off the bathroom light and close Johnny’s curtains, walking around the far side of the bed. As he passed by, Evan grabbed one of the multitudes of pillows from the head of the bed and dodged toward the doorway, throwing it with practiced aim so it hit Johnny squarely in the face, then booted it out of the bedroom, calling “good night!” over Johnny’s enraged hollering from the bed.

Johnny only managed to wiggle out of his clothing, not even bothering to hang them up, before he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Johnny woke up early the next morning and allowed himself to soak in the ensuite jacuzzi tub. He sighed blissfully as it massaged his lower back luxuriously, deciding it was even better than the bed. If he could soothe his aching muscles like this every night for the next three days, the bed was just an afterthought. Turning off the jets, feeling loose and relaxed, Johnny felt a rush of goodwill towards Evan, thinking maybe he might offer to let Evan use the jacuzzi tub one of the next three nights. Just so he wouldn’t have to feel like he owed him, which was a truly appalling feeling. 

Johnny pulled on his practice clothes and shouldered his skate bag, ready to go down and meet the others for breakfast. He opened the door and nearly walked straight into Evan who was standing, fist raised, ready to knock on the door. In an effort not to collide with him, Johnny hit the door frame and yelped as his skate bag set him off balance and he tumbled ungracefully onto his rear.

“Um. I brought you your venti whatsit,” Evan said blankly, staring down at him, carrying a cardboard tray with his grande coffee and Johnny’s venti latte.

Johnny groaned and collapsed onto his back. It was too early for this. He lifted his pelvis and rubbed at his bruised tailbone. Tanith chose that moment to make an appearance.

“Well. This is awkward,” she remarked, taking in the sight of Johnny sprawled at Evan’s feet in the doorway, pelvis thrust up and massaging his ass. 

“Are we doing morning yoga? I have already done my stretches but I would be happy to do more!” Stephane came into view behind Evan. 

Johnny sat up and glared at the trio outside his door. “You’re all evil. All of you.”

Tanith gave Johnny a hand up and picked his bag up off the ground for him helping him settle it back on his shoulder. Stephane frowned. “Have I missed the stretching then? I wasn’t aware you were expecting me. Perhaps you had sent me a text?” Stephane pulled his phone out of his pocket, peering at it in confusion.

Johnny scowled, shut the door, snatched his latte away from Evan and walked off to the elevator, his greeting party following behind at a safe distance. 

 

 

They were relatively early for breakfast, but Johnny decided after indulging in scrambled eggs once again (though exercising immense self-control and forgoing a hashbrown), to get to the rink early instead of lingering around the hotel. He would enjoy a few minutes to warm up in relative peace. He excused himself to Yu-Na, whom he’d been sitting and catching up with, and left the hotel. As he was exiting the front doors, Stephane caught up with him. Today, he had his skates as well. He explained to Johnny that there were two rinks in the complex, so they’d be splitting into their smaller groups, 4 groups in total on the ice at a time. If only three groups were running on the ice, skaters not involved in said groups were allotted time to practice their solo routines. 

They reached the rink and shook off their umbrellas under the shelter of the building’s concrete awning. Stephane turned to Johnny and twirled his umbrella, which was striped in a black and white swirl design, spraying him with raindrops. “Are you feeling hypnotised now, Johnny? I command you to sing to me your favourite Britney Spears song!”

Johnny wiped his wet face off and scowled at Stephane, dripping. “Sing, Johnny! Sing!”

Johnny couldn’t help but break into a grin and go along with it. He didn’t really have a favourite Britney Spears song so instead he just chose the first Britney song that came to mind and burst into the chorus of ‘Oops I Did It Again’, shaking his ass salaciously and shimmying his shoulders at Stephane who clapped gleefully, and joined in with the ‘yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah’s. 

“Aww yeah, git it, girl.” 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder mid-ass swivel to see Scott, Adam and Evan shaking the rain off their jackets and pulling the doors to the rink open. Scott pointed a finger-gun at Johnny as he held the door open for the other two and winked at Johnny teasingly before following them in. 

Stephane wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulder genially, leading him into the rink as well. “Do not worry, Johnny. They are only jealous of your ass circles. Theirs, they are more of the rhombus variety. I have seen Evan’s, they are triangles at best.”

Johnny snorted into his latte.

 

 

Once they were sufficiently warmed up, everyone having arrived and done a few circuits of the rink, Kurt and the four choreographers waved them over to the benches where they took a seat or lined up along the boards. Johnny found out he was starting off on David’s piece with him and Sasha. In the afternoon, he would switch off to Lori’s piece with Jeff, Evan and Yu-Na. They were in the second rink for the morning, being a small pairing, sharing with another piece Stephane was doing with Ksenia, Mirai and Mao. Marina would be taking over the main rink with the three pairs teams while Lori worked on the floor with some choreography involving another group in one of the complex’s dance/fitness rooms. Mao and Jeremy were allotted an hour and a half each to practice their own pieces on the opposite end of the rink as the pairs group. The rest of the skaters were free to do as they pleased for the rest of the morning. Johnny sighed when he added up what Stephane had told him at lunch yesterday and realised he would likely not get a free spot in the next 3 days. 

He slotted his skates into their guards and went to follow Sasha to the other rink, but Kurt’s voice rang out after him. “Johnny! Johnny, just a moment before you go. Come talk to Stephane and I.”

Johnny turned to go over, curiously noting that they had taken Evan aside as well. He was immediately horrified to remember he hadn’t worn a turtleneck today and his neck was still all red and oh god were they about to receive some sort of Junior’s-style ‘talk’ about being discreet or something? It was on the tip of his tongue to immediately clarify the situation with Kurt when he remembered Stephane’s presence, which would make no sense at all if that’s what this was about. 

“Sit, sit. Both of you,” Kurt suggested with a disarmingly charming smile. Johnny noticed Stephane looked slightly nervous which made him feel nervous too. What was this about?

Kurt looked between the two of them from his and Stephane’s shared bench opposite them and laughed. “Relax, boys. You look like you’re about to be told you’ve been dropped from the tour.”

“We’re not, right?” Evan asked, genuine worry in his voice. “We apologised to David yesterday and he said it was ok. I’m sorry we were late! I swear we weren’t having sex, I accidentally sneezed on Johnny’s neck and then he took a shower and rubbed at it and now it looks like I gave him a hickey but I swear I didn’t!” 

Johnny elbowed him hard in the side, eyes wide, and gave him an extremely pointed look that was clearly the non-verbal equivalent of, ‘If you don’t shut up this instant you’re getting a toe pick to the groin.’ Kurt blinked for a moment, clearly unsure of how to proceed, before shaking it off and taking it in stride. “No, Evan. You’re not being fired. Rest assured, you’re adults and it’s none of my business what you get up to off the ice.”

Johnny saw Stephane stifle a snigger behind Kurt, hand placed modestly in front of his mouth, but there was no mistaking the mirth dancing in his brown eyes. Johnny sighed inwardly and steeled himself for an unending glut of teasing until Stephane finally left for Lausanne. Evan looked appropriately embarrassed by his outburst and Johnny mentally rescinded his planned jacuzzi-offer, considering the two of them beyond even.

Kurt cleared his throat, smiling genuinely again. “Anyways, yes. Stephane and I wanted to discuss something with the two of you before going ahead and putting it in the programs and all that. Stephane?” Kurt gestured to Stephane.

“Ah. Yes. Well, the other choreographers and I, we were talking about these single paired routines, to present the tour’s biggest stars together. Hence you and Sasha,” Stephane nodded at Johnny. “and you and Yu-Na,” a nod to Evan, “as well as the ones with Daisuke and Mao, and Jeff and Joannie.” 

“And we realise you two are already under popular demand, and already paired in the groups Stephane just mentioned,” Kurt interjected, rationally.

Stephane continued on. “But we thought perhaps, since you have both retired now, it would be very interesting for you to do a routine together.”

“It would be very good press for the tour, boys,” Kurt reminded them.

Johnny stared between the two of them. “No way.”

“I’m down,” Evan said at the exact same moment.

Johnny rounded on him. “What? No!” He turned back to Kurt and Stephane. “I can’t skate a pairs routine with Evan!!”

“But why, Johnny?” Stephane asked, brow wrinkled with concern, eyes pleading. “Maybe I am seeing things wrong, but it seemed as if you two were getting along?”

“It wouldn’t be a pairs routine, so to say, Johnny,” Kurt explained. “Nobody would be playing the ‘woman’ here.”

Johnny rubbed at his temples. “I just -” he cut off with a frustrated sound.

Stephane looked genuinely confused. “But Johnny, were not Evan and you doing yoga practice this morning? I had not thought this would upset you so greatly.”

Johnny buried his head in his hands. “That’s not. We weren’t -” he tried to explain but gave it up as useless; it would prove no point at all.

“At least let Stephane explain his idea for the routine, Johnny,” Kurt requested.

Johnny gestured with one hand for Stephane to go ahead, still rubbing at his temple, feeling a headache coming on. Stephane immediately forgot his concern and became his usual animated self. “So my idea is that you are both very strong warriors, in a battle. It will be very strong and intense and it will be very much a huge crowd pleaser after so many years of you two being rivals.”

Kurt smiled at the both of them. “It would be a chance for the both of you to show the public that you’re not enemies, and you can perhaps even poke a bit of fun at yourselves.” Evan nodded earnestly, clearly up for the whole thing.

Johnny snorted. “Right. He’s a fucking giant, how would I fight him?”

Stephane wagged a finger at him, grinning cheekily. “Ah but where he is bigger than you, stronger, you are more graceful and agile, you see! It will be like a, what is the saying, a tongue-in-mouth nod to your past rivalry!” Stephane beamed at his own brilliance.

“Tongue-in-cheek,” Johnny corrected him miserably. 

“Come on, Johnny,” Evan pleaded. “It would be fun! We can make it fun. We could do things we couldn’t do with girls!”

Johnny gave him a sardonic look and Evan immediately flushed. Johnny ignored him and turned back to Kurt and Stephane. “Who wins?”

Kurt looked to Stephane who gave Johnny a blank look. “Well... I have not decided this yet,” he said slowly, carefully.

“Johnny can win,” Evan said firmly.

Johnny scoffed. “This is stupid. That doesn’t make any sense. I didn't win.” He tried hard not to let bitterness seep into his tone and thought he did a pretty good job of it.

“You could both kill each other,” Kurt suggested jokingly with a laugh.

“Ok,” Johnny said quickly. “Yes. I can do that.”

The other three stared at him, as if they were waiting for him to say, ‘just kidding!’ Johnny crossed his arms resolutely. “That’s the only way I’ll agree, if both of us lose. I’m not going give the media fodder by winning this when I so clearly haven’t. And I’ll admit to having my ego bruised enough times that I won’t do it if Evan wins. But I’m game if we both end up killing each other.”

Evan cleared his throat, looking at Johnny in concern. “This isn’t some kind of metaphor for real life, is it?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on killing me, Evan?”

“No,” Evan said slowly.

“Well neither am I. There’s your answer.”

Kurt looked unconvinced and Johnny could see Stephane’s brain working to try and fit this into choreography. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea, and found himself being the one trying to convince the others that his plan was genius. “No, no, you guys listen. Seriously, I should be writing daytime TV, this is brilliant. It’ll be like giving the entire USFSA the finger. Like ‘fuck you guys, we both lose.’ Oh god, please, let’s do this,” he said excitedly.

Evan turned to Kurt for his approval. Stephane nodded. “I think I could work something around that, yes.” His smile returned. “Yes, yes. It will be very good. Perhaps we can have swords and fake blood and everything!”

Kurt looked slightly alarmed. “No swords,” he said firmly.

Stephane waved him off. “No, no. They have skates anyways, it will be much more poignant if they kill each other with their skate blades, no?”

Kurt looked not at all convinced. “This sounds like it could result in some sort of Jessica Dube sort of accident.”

Stephane shook his head, sure of himself now. “Do not worry Kurt, it will all be mist and windows.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” Johnny corrected automatically.

“Yes, yes, smoke. We will have a smoke machine!” Stephane clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

Kurt sighed. “Alright. Just, please don’t _actually_ hurt each other? Stephane, if you could run the basic choreography by me tonight?” 

Stephane nodded eagerly. “Of course, I will re-work the general plot this afternoon.”

“I hope this does not turn out to be a mistake,” Kurt said nervously. “Now off with you three, your groups are waiting.”

Stephane dragged Johnny off to the other rink, thanking him profusely for agreeing and telling him about all the lifts he wants to try from taking a contemporary dance class the past year. Johnny also hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in agreeing to it. Having Evan drop him on his head was not how he wanted to end his skating career.

 

Practice with Sasha went well enough- a lovely, soft piece that highlighted both their artistic and musical abilities, though Johnny had to admit his focus hadn't been 100% what with the vague feeling of impending doom lingering over his head after his talk with Stephane, Kurt and Evan. Luckily neither David nor Sasha said anything, and after a filling lunch and a light-hearted game of cards with Jeremy and Meryl, he went into Lori's rehearsal feeling confident. He was somewhat relieved to take a bit of a backseat in this routine, with Yu-Na being showcased as the star with the three boys all vying for her attention. The choreo was easy but entertaining, which Johnny silently appreciated- he had enough on his plate skating in so many other new routines.

With a pleased smile and a clap of her hands, Lori called and end to their practice at 6pm, praising their hard work. Johnny felt his posture immediately sag with relief. He was _definitely_ not in the same shape stamina-wise as in his competitive career. As Jeff and Yu-Na, lost in conversation, meandered to the boards, he did a loop of their half of the rink a few times to cool down, shaking out his limbs gingerly. Annoyingly, Evan fell into line in front of him for one loop before veering to the middle of the ice and launching into the footwork section of what Johnny assumed was his exhibition program. Johnny pointedly averted his eyes, pretending to be preoccupied fiddling with the hem of his sweater, but tracked Evan's progress through the section out of the corner of his eye. It was frustrating- first of all having the stamina to do it- they were supposed to be retired for god's sake! But, Johnny had to admit, also the difficulty of it. It was something that would have been comparable to any routine at World's that year.

Johnny suddenly felt old. Too old for this. Too old to do this stupid rivalry thing with Stephane and Evan. Too old to engage in this theatre anymore. He abruptly changed course in his lap and headed straight to the boards, forcing Evan to pull up short out of a twizzle to avoid colliding with him.

"Woah! Hey watch out!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry," Johnny mumbled noncommittally, not slowing.

He clambered over the step and sagged heavily onto the bench, bending to numbly undo his skate laces. As he pulled off his second boot and gingerly flexed his arches and toes, Evan clomped awkwardly over on his skate guards.

"Hey, you ok?"

Johnny refused to look up at him, resuming pulling on his shoes and gathering his things. "Yeah. Fine, Just tired."

Evan _hmmm_ 'ed doubtfully, propping his shin on the other knee and unlacing his own boots.

Johnny snorted derisively. "Right, because you care so much." 

Shouldering his bag, Johnny exited the rink, ignoring Evan's cut-off reply. He really was too old for this. Why couldn't everyone just let things lie? He didn't have to worry about Evan anymore in his life, why was this being forced on him? Johnny was fully willing and capable of being perfectly civil to Evan as long as Evan didn't start shit with him. Wasn't that enough, after all the years of bitter competition and hurtful comments between them? And why was Evan so interested in this? Wasn't he tired of it as well?

Not in the mood to put on a fake smile and deal with being social, Johnny opted out of dinner with the group and allowed himself to indulge in room-service. Somewhat masochistically, he ordered himself ravioli of all things. He deserved carbs, he told himself. And who was going to tell him off anyways? He called the concierge again and ordered extra parmesan cheese on top, ignored his phone buzzing with texts and calls for the rest of the night and passed out in a carb-coma at 9pm.


	5. Chapter 5

Johnny woke early the next morning in the full throes of carb-guilt and forced himself into some running gear, tucked his room key and phone into his jacket pocket and mentally and physically shoved himself out the door. He told himself his morning latte would be his reward for running a few miles and after a brief moment’s indecision outside the lobby doors, took off towards the rising sun. At least it wasn’t raining today- yet. The spring sun warmed his face and he allowed his brain to zone out, focusing solely on the sounds of his heart pumping, the rush of his breathing and the soft fall of his trainers on the pavement. 

Johnny usually hated running, preferring the gym, but at least running cleared his head from dwelling on the imminent rehearsal with Stephane and Evan that afternoon. Upon waking he had checked the schedule that had been emailed out last night and was pleased to see that he was with Marina for the morning. Large groups usually were more character pieces than anything too technically difficult, for which Johnny was endlessly thankful for, knowing he’d need his full physical (and, considering Evan’s involvement, mental) stamina for whatever Stephane laid on them in the afternoon. Pushing the thoughts out of his head once more, Johnny focused on the sidewalk in front of him. 

He checked his iPhone every so often, assuring himself he was sticking to the route he had briefly mapped out for himself when he set out in the unfamiliar streets. Having made the correct loop around to the street running south of the hotel and slipping the iPhone back in his pocket, Johnny’s attention was briefly distracted by the pocket’s zipper sticking and he craned his neck to try and see what was happening without breaking stride. In that momentary lapse of spacial awareness, he found himself attempting to run through something very large and solid and ended up in a tangled heap with said object on the sidewalk a moment later.

Embarrassed, profuse apologies on his lips, Johnny scrambled to steady himself and help the unwitting roadblock to their feet. “Shit, shit I’m so sorry, I was distracted- I’m so sor-“ his jaw snapped shut with an audible click when he realised who he’d collided with.

“Are you crazy?” Evan winced, flexing his knee gingerly as he righted himself and braced his arm on a parking sign. “I’m literally the _only_ person on this whole street and you managed to run into me?”

Johnny glances surreptitiously around, realising Evan really was the only person out on the street and tried to cover his embarrassment with haughty bravado. “My zipper was stuck, ok? I was distracted! And who stands in the middle of the empty sidewalk and just lets an unwitting jogger run straight into them?!”

“I head my earphones in!”

“Well… you shouldn’t just stand there like that, you were distracted too!”

“I was waiting for the crosswalk to change,” Evan grumbled, still massaging and flexing his knee. “You literally stepped on my leg, Johnny, Jesus!”

Another retort was on the tip of Johnny’s tongue but he felt it die on his lips as he took a look at Evan’s knee which was skinned all the way up the thigh by the pavement and bleeding not a small amount. “Shit. Shit I’m sorry Evan. Fuck. Ok, let’s go back to the hotel. Can you walk?” As loathe as he was to be apologising to Evan for anything, Johnny knew he would feel about a million times worse if it turned out that he had actually injured Evan.

Evan cautiously shifted his weight onto his bleeding leg and winced, but it held. “Yeah. Yeah I think it’s ok, let’s go back. I don’t think I should run though.”

“Here,” Johnny snatched Evan’s water-filled Gatorade bottle from his hand. “Bend your knee.”

Evan curled his foot up obediently under himself, letting his knee jut out as much as he could until he winced and shook his head, indicating that was as far as he could bend it. Not as bad as Johnny had feared. He internally sighed in relief- no major damage. He uncapped the bottle and squeezed, rinsing the water over the roadburn on Evan’s knee and up his thigh as the taller man hissed at the sensation.

“Why the hell are you jogging in shorts anyways. What kind of lunatic jogs in shorts in Chicago in April anyways, Jesus, Evan. It’s like 40 degrees,” Johnny muttered, avoiding making eye contact with Evan.

Evan shrugged. “I’m used to it here.”

“Ok, California boy.”

“Hey, I lived here way longer than I’ve lived in Cali. Besides, I prefer running when it’s chilly. It wakes me up and keeps my mind sharp!” Evan replied earnestly.

It took great control and willpower for Johnny not to make a rude comment about that last bit, so he focused instead on his bloody handywork on Evan’s leg. He felt more than slightly chagrined and merely hmmm’d noncommittally in response, still refusing to look up and meet Evan’s eyes.

“Ok.” Johnny snapped the lid of the bottle shut and dabbed at Evan’s leg with his headband, making a mental note to throw it out as soon as they returned to the hotel. “Let’s get back.”

Evan was able to make his way back with only a small amount of limping, chatting ad nauseum about the area of Chicago they were in and the amazing pizza place down the street that served the best deep dish he’d ever eaten but Frank would lose his shit if he ever knew Evan even _thought_ about Chicago deep dish pizza. Johnny walked in silence beside him, teeth firmly clamped together. After a couple blocks the urge to shut Evan’s rambling down lessened and he accidentally caught himself mid-chuckle in response to a story about Frank. Luckily they reached the hotel before Evan had a chance to get too far into a particularly revolting anecdote about unwittingly walking into the shower room to find Frank already in there and he took the opportunity to cut him off.

“Ok Evan! We’re here! That’s enough! Nobody on the planet needs or wants to hear those details!!”

“Oh!” Evan seemed completely taken aback that they had already reached the hotel. “Ok uh… I guess I should go shower. I’ll see you later I guess?”

Johnny feigned distraction fiddling with his zipper again so he wouldn’t have to look Evan in the eye when he offered, “Look, you should disinfect your leg. I’ll-… I’ll clean it up for you. It was my fault. I have a first aid kit in my skate bag.” Johnny abhorred feeling awkward and unsure his words in front of Evan. Wanting to avoid seeing Evan’s reaction, he turned swiftly on his heel and made for the elevators, leaving it up to Evan to follow or not. 

Evan slipped into the elevator beside Johnny just as the doors began to close. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Johnny shrugged a shoulder in feigned nonchalance. 

 

 

Situating Evan straddling the side of the jacuzzi tub after removing their shoes and jackets, Johnny retrieved his extensive first aid pack from his bag and carefully laid out the supplies he needed on the floor at Evan’s feet. Wincing as his knees cracked and popped, he folded his legs under himself and sunk down to the floor beside the tub so that he was eye-level with the offending injury on the leg in the tub. He busied himself with his work, feeling in control again, ignoring Evan’s curious peering at him and giving silent thanks for the lack of conversation.

“This will sting,” Johnny warned him as he suspended a bottle of hydrogen peroxide over his injury. He slowly upended the bottle, resulting in a sharp hiss from Evan as the liquid fizzed on the wound.

“Don’t be a baby,” Johnny chided, tending to the adjacent scratches. “Pull your shorts leg up.”

Evan obediently bunched the fabric of his jogging shorts up to the crease of his hip and groin, exposing the longer strip of roadburn up his leg along with a fair amount of tanned, muscled flesh. Johnny blanched for a moment, swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Then immediately wanted to bleach his brain for looking at _Evan_ of all people in… _that_ way. He blamed Galina. Despite being retired, Galina still held out hope that he would come out of retirement and still enforced her strict rules and he had yet to have a chance to take advantage of his off-season ‘perks’ and as a result he had… pent-up… energy, ok?! It was just an animal reaction to flesh- it had nothing to do with Evan Lysacek for God’s sake. Johnny shuddered in horror and fumbled the bottle, Evan reflexively reaching out and grabbing it before it hit the bottom of the tub and spilled everywhere, pressing it back into Johnny’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Johnny muttered, still refusing to meet Evan’s eyes.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I could do this myself, it’s not the first time I’ve had an injury,” Evan offered.

“Shut up. I’m trying to make myself feel less guilty, ok?” Johnny shot back, but it lacked any fire.

Evan huffed out a breath in amusement but otherwise stayed silent. Johnny finished with the bottle and replaced the cap, reaching instead for several packets of antiseptic alcohol wipes. He efficiently dealt with the scrapes around the knee and tossed the wipe aside, opening another packet. Firmly banishing any less-than-saintly thoughts from his mind, he pressed the wipe to Evan’s thigh, steadying the limb by bracing his hand on the inside of his thigh and gently dabbing upwards. 

He was so effectively focused on the task at hand he hadn’t realised that as the hand cleaning the wound climbed higher up the outside of Evan’s thigh, the hand bracing the inside had followed it until Evan let out a soft gasp that clearly had nothing to do with any discomfort of his injury being cleaned. Johnny froze and his eyes snapped up, properly locking with Evans’ for the first time since realising who he had crashed into earlier that morning. Evan’s cheeks instantly bloomed red, but his eyes stayed fixed on Johnny’s, lips parted slightly, breath held suspended for a long moment, waiting. Johnny quickly recovered, eyes pulling back down and slipping his hand back down to the inside of Evan’s knee, Evan exhaling that suspended breath simultaneously.

He imagined he should apologise, but Johnny would have done pretty much anything to avoid making this more awkward than it was so he resolutely continued his dabbing, trying not to notice the slightly shaky breath Evan inhaled and released, fingers flexing and relaxing on the rim of the jacuzzi. He briefly wondered what kind of “rules” Frank Carroll imposed on his skaters before steering his mind well away from that line of thought and finishing up the job. He cleaned up the mess on the floor around him and pulled out a tube of polysporin before Evan finally spoke.

“Wait. Before-… Do you think I could maybe take a bath in this tub?” Johnny did glance up then, tension melting away at the sight of Evan’s attempt at a sneaky smirk. “I’m pretty sore from, y’know, you running me over.”

Johnny scowled. “Do you plan on milking this for days?”

Evan grinned boyishly. “Only if you don’t let me take a jacuzzi.”

Johnny sighed dramatically and threw his hands up. “Fine. But don’t put any bubbly shit in the water with your leg. And don’t get the burns wet. And don’t run it too hot.”

“Alright, mother.” Johnny shot him a scathing look and tossed a clean towel at Evan’s face, stalking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him with a click.

 

With his bathroom occupied, Johnny glanced at the time and headed downstairs to the dining room. It was still early enough that only a couple of the more jetlagged members of the tour were up and eating breakfast. Johnny nodded and waved at them in passing but decided against joining them, piling up a plate with some fruit and a couple muffins and making his way back up to his room. He pulled out his laptop, sprawled out on his bed and busied himself with his emails that he’d been neglecting for the past few days while munching absently on an oatmeal muffin. 

Finishing the emailing, Johnny heard the jets of the jacuzzi turn off and then back on, accompanied by the squeaking sounds of Evan rearranging his limbs in the tub. A satisfied groan drifted through the closed door as Johnny powered down his laptop and stored it away, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Ignoring more sounds of movement and satisfaction from the bathroom, Johnny glanced outside, noting the clear skies of earlier that morning were beginning to cloud over. 

 

He must have drifted off for a short while because next time he opened his eyes rain was tapping steadily at the window. He slowly became aware of what had woken him: Evan was singing in the tub. Johnny didn’t recognise the song which was unsurprising because it was probably from some obscure indie band Evan listened to while hanging around in dropcrotch sweats and beanies and drinking organic chai. Johnny grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and whipped it at the door of the bathroom. Evan sang louder in response.

Rolling off the bed, Johnny yanked the unlocked door of the bathroom open. “Shut. Up.”

Evan flailed comically, water splashing everywhere and limbs all folding in on themselves in an attempt to shield himself from view. Johnny eyed him sardonically, leaning casually against the doorframe and crossing his arms. Evan, knees up to his chin (or at least as far as he could bend the injured knee up) and arms wrapping around his shins, glared up at him from the tub. “It’s called knocking.” His face was a flushed ruddy colour staining all the way down his chest, though how much from the heat of the water and how much from embarrassment Johnny couldn’t say.

“It’s called don’t be a fucking prick in someone else’s jacuzzi.” Johnny made a show of strolling into the spacious bathroom, stopping in front of one of the double sinks and turning the tap on, rooting through his toiletries bag for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

He caught Evan’s eye in the mirror and the other man scowled, trying to make his gigantic frame shrink in on itself. He looked like a dead spider, long limbs folding in on his body. Johnny snorted as he squeezed toothpaste over the bristles of his toothbrush. “Since when are you so modest. We’ve shared locker rooms since we didn’t even have hair under our arms.”

“That’s different,” Evan muttered.

“How?” Evan refused to respond, staring at the bubbly water swirling around him. Johnny turned to face him, idly scrubbing his teeth, and hoisted himself up to sit on the marbled countertop. “It’s not like I can see anything, you know. You’re in a jacuzzi,” he reminded him.

Evan glanced up at Johnny and back at the water, relaxing his limbs experimentally in increments. Johnny leaned sideways over the sink and delicately spat the toothpaste out, rinsing his brush under the faucet. There were not many things in life he enjoyed more than making Evan Lysacek squirm. Not that it was hard- Evan was so tightly wound and laced up it didn’t take much to throw him. Johnny pointedly watched Evan for a few moments while Evan busied himself with looking anywhere but Johnny.

“Seriously why are you so awkward? It’s not you have anything to be ashamed of. I mean sure, your body resembles a baby horse or newborn giraffe, but I guess as far as giraffe-people go it’s not like you’re hideously deformed.”

Johnny enjoyed his own body. It was a tool, yes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to admire it in the mirror. They were, all of them here on this tour, in excellent shape. There was a reason why 100,000 condoms had been supplied for the Olympics, after all. Johnny evaluated Evan’s partially submerged body critically. Yes, he was about 5 shades of burnt sienna too orange, his floppy brown hair was in need of a cut, and he was still, at 26, all long-limbed awkwardness in everyday life, but Johnny supposed he could appreciate certain things about his physique (from a solely objective point of view, of course). Obviously he was in shape- his shoulders were broad and muscled, his waist sharply tapered, his stomach flat and his thighs corded with long muscles. Features that on Johnny’s shorter frame sometimes made him feel oddly stocky, but on Evan’s 6’2” frame looked sleek and elongated. 

There was even something quite nice, Johnny admitted to himself, about Evan’s face when he was being quiet and calm. As the embarrassed flush slowly drained from Evan’s face as he relaxed, Johnny supposed he had grown into an attractive man somewhere in the last few years, having outgrown some of the awkward features of his teenage and young adult years. 

Evan met his eyes tentatively before dropping them back the the water and busying himself scooping water over his own head, wetting his hair. “Why are you staring at me, you weirdo,” he mumbled.

“I’m checking you out,” Johnny replied blithely, smirking at him when brown eyes flicked up suspiciously, trying to suss out whether he was being mocked.

Johnny turned his back and bent over the sink, splashing water on his face and preparing for his morning cleansing/moisturising routine. Out of the corner of his eye in the mirror he caught Evan shooting surreptitious looks at him as he massaged shampoo into his hair. Johnny purposefully pushed his butt out obscenely, canting his hips and arching his back. Evan caught his eye in the mirror and scowled and Johnny’s knowing look. 

“This _is_ a bit weird you know.”

“What?” Johnny asked innocently, enjoying making Evan uncomfortable by having to say it.

“I’m naked in the jacuzzi and you’re washing your face in the sink. It’s weird.”

“Hey you demanded the jacuzzi as blackmail. It’s not my fault I need to get ready for the day while you’re in here lounging away. Shouldn’t you be getting a move on?” he maintained an innocent, airy tone.

Evan shrugged. “I have the morning block off.”

Johnny turned to Evan, face covered in exfoliator and grimaced. “You got up at 5:30 am and went for a run when you didn’t even technically need to be awake til noon?”

“I’m not on vacation or something.”

“Evan do you even understand the concept of sleeping in? Have you slept in past 8am since you were 14?” Johnny groused, returning to the sink and wiping his face with a hot facecloth.

“No, it seems like a waste of time.”

Johnny sighed loudly and rolled his eyes as he finished applying the last of his face serum as he caught Evan in the mirror trying to figure out how to rinse the shampoo out of his hair without submerging his roadburn or flashing Johnny. “Stop that, here I’ll do it. And turn off the jets- you’re not supposed to put shampoo in the jacuzzi, you peasant.”

He retrieved Evan’s empty water bottle from beside the tub and sunk it into the water, Evan squirming away from Johnny’s submerged hand. Johnny ignored it. “The jets, Evan.”

“But…” Evan protested, trailing off in embarrassment.

“What?”

Evan gestured in exasperation at the foaming jets of water protecting his modesty.

“Oh please. I’m not going to look. And I’ve seen you naked before. Believe me I have no interest in my eyes being assaulted by your horrible tattoos and manscaping,” Johnny scoffed, reaching across the tub himself and turning the dial off. The jets coughed out a last few bubbles before the water stilled aside from Evan flailing around to find a position where Johnny couldn’t be able to see his crotch.

“Evan for fucks sake.” Johnny moved around to the back of the tub. “Chin up. Close your eyes.”

Evan did as he was told and reached up to scrub the shampoo out of his hair as Johnny poured the water over his head. He refilled it and repeated twice before getting up and grabbing his conditioner from the shower and tossing it to Evan. “Here. Don’t waste any this stuff costs $80 a bottle.”

“Oh I don’t use conditioner.” Evan offered the bottle back.

“You what.”

“I… I don’t use it? I guess? I usually just use that Pantene 2 in 1 stuff.”

Johnny looked scandalised. “Oh Evan. Honey. No. Please don’t say these things to me.” He pushed Evan’s hand holding the bottle back against Evan’s chest. “Put it in your hair. Just the size of a quarter. Lather.”

Johnny returned to the sink to finish his skin routine, muttering about Evan’s personal hygiene, while Evan carefully squeezed a dollop of the cream into his palm and worked it through his hair. “You’re also going to let me give you a trim after this. How has nobody taught you how to properly care for your hair? It’s going to fall out to spite you and you’ll be pathetic and balding by the time you’re 30, Evan. You’re going to turn into Scott Hamilton!” Johnny gagged dramatically.

Evan sighed, Johnny returning to help him rinse the conditioner out. “You’re worse than my publicist and my mom combined.”

Johnny smacked him on the shoulder in punishment before reaching his arm into the tub, Evan scrambling away again to avoid any physical contact below the water, and pulled the plug up. “Bathtime is over, princess. Out. Some of us actually have rehearsal. And I still need to shower and get to the rink. Put some polysporin on your leg and bandage it up.” Johnny tossed the tube of polysporin and some extra bandages on top of Evan’s discarded shorts.

He grabbed the towel Evan had folded on the floor beside the tub and tossed it at his head again before walking over to the shower and turning it on, letting the water warm to the temperature he preferred and swiftly stripping out of his clothes. 

“Johnny!!” Evan cried, alarmed.

“Shut up, I need to get going here, rehearsal starts in less than an hour,” Johnny replied shortly, not bothering to look at him. He peeled his leggings off, half-folding them on the counter and shimmied out of his briefs, back to Evan but the sounds of him tripping over himself trying to hastily vacate the tub were clear enough. He stepped into the glass shower and called, “Bring coffee to the rink!” at Evan’s retreating form, towel slipping halfway down his (actually pretty nice, Johnny grudgingly admitted to himself) ass and closed the shower door. Whatever, his ass was a million times more perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

Johnny’s morning with rehearsal with Marina’s ensemble was predictably fun but not especially challenging. They had the choreo down in the first hour and a half. At about 10:30 Johnny spotted Evan stroll in casually which he normally wouldn’t give a shit about except for the two coffee cups in his hand. Johnny finished a re-designed throw sequence Marina had been explaining to him and glided over to the sideboards.

“Took you long enough, bitch. Don’t tell me you went back to your room and took a nap.” Johnny plucked his latte out of Evan’s hand and cradled it between his fingers lovingly.

Evan gave a wry smile. “I wish. I had about ten million emails to catch up on and I had to conference call Frank and Yuki for like an hour,” he pouted.

Johnny was about to tell him off for being a whiny baby until he considered having to talk to Frank Carroll for a whole hour and took pity on Evan by mechanically patting his arm in sympathy. “Poor baby,” he said with only the smallest amount of mocking. He took a few sips of the piping hot drink, handed it back to Evan, and rejoined the group (though he escaped back to the boards to feed his addiction every time Marina was focusing on another skater).

Lunch was still about an hour away when Marina clapped her hands, surveying her sextet and declaring that the number was ready. “If anyone would like to use the ice for the next hour to run through their solo routines it’s up to you. Decide amongst yourselves who’d like it.”

Jeremy and Mirai immediately backed out, wanting to take advantage of some extra time to run some errands and Daisuke had time scheduled that afternoon in the B rink where Johnny and Evan were sharing. Johnny called first dibs and Ksenia turned the full puppy eyes on Sasha, begging for just 15 mins to run her footwork section and then it was all Sasha’s. Sasha hushed Ksenia and graciously told her the ice was all hers- she was going to try and get a quick appointment in with the tour’s physiotherapist for her nagging achilles injury.

Ksenia immediately took off to the other side of the rink and launched into her footwork section, determination writ across her face. Johnny made his way slowly over to the boards, shifting between his feet, feeling the flex in his hips and decades old injuries groaning in protest. He was good at ignoring them, though- they were nothing but background static. He stepped off the ice, not bothering to slip his guards on and reached into his bag on the nearest bench, pulling out his iPod and earphones. He took a quick sip of his cooling latte before pushing it back into Evan’s hands, though he hardly seemed to register as he was deep in conversation with Jeremy. 

Not keen to get sucked into that snoozefest, Johnny quickly stepped back onto the ice, putting in his earbuds and scrolling through his music to the right song. He set it on repeat and secured his iPod in the pocket of his training jacket, zipping the zipper over the loose cord. Letting the opening chords wash over him, he worked his edges distractedly, picking up speed and coasting in a wide lobe. He shook out his legs, arms, rolled his shoulders and neck and let the music play through once. As the last chord faded, Johnny took his starting position on his half of the ice, blocking Ksenia’s frenzied sequence of movements in the corner of his eye from his focus and centring himself.’

He liked to have his exhibition pieces quite varied. Something beautiful, something fun and light-hearted, something dramatic and sexy. This piece was the newest of his current routines, a Spanish tango to Tango de Roxanne from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. He began with small movements circling along the boards gently, echoing the moody piano and guitars and then, belying a sudden pause in the music, suddenly picked up speed down the centre of the ice. A faint beat began and Johnny set up his element. He launched into a triple axel and landed perfectly on the beat the violin began the tango melody. Johnny grinned, twisting, switching backwards and drawing a hand up his stomach, across his chest and pushed it out. A series of twists and spins suddenly laid out into a spread-eagle as the singer’s rough drew out the name “Roxanne”. He ended it with a stylish spin and stopped dead as the singer closed the word.

Johnny continued, sharp movements contrasted with serpentine seduction. He set up his lutz, swivelling in a 3 turn as he approached his mark. Feeling adventurous he went for a triple rather than a double, landed too deep on his edge and his skate slipped out from under him, sending him skidding on the ice. He sighed, told himself for the millionth time he was too old for this and vowed (for the millionth time) to stop practicing quads and triple lutzes. He really, really hated triple lutzes. Circling wide, he centred himself with the music, marking several of the elements before fully joining back in for the footwork sequence. It was his favourite sequence in any of his recent pieces and he relished the drama he could bring to it guilt-free without the nagging voice in the back of his head (that sounded an awful lot like Scott Hamilton if Johnny were honest) telling him to reign it in a little. If ever it was appropriate it was for this.

Johnny went through the routine in bits and pieces several more times, waving to Ksenia as she left the ice before returning to his mission to nail that fucking triple lutz if it was the last thing he did. It was hit and miss, but he figured it had to be close to lunchtime so it was time to wrap things up. He would have one more sip of liquid energy, nail the routine top to bottom, then head in for lunch. Johnny bee-lined for the boards, realising as he approached that the rink had emptied entirely minus Evan who was busy tapping away on his phone.

“If you’re waiting for me, don’t.” Johnny grabbed his drink which was now closer to an iced latte from the bench beside Evan. 

Evan shook his head. “I was just watching. I’ll go if it psyches you out,” he grinned knowingly.

“Please. You couldn’t intimidate a toddler,” Johnny scoffed. “At least make yourself useful and go plug this into the speakers so I can get a proper run before lunch.” He handed Evan his iPod and then slid back onto the ice, doing a lazy half loop until Evan figured out how to work the sound system.

Once he received a nod from the boards, Johnny took his starting position and locked eyes with Evan intently. He would show him how to intimidate someone. And it was so easy with Evan; all you had to do was flirt even in the barest sense of the word and he would get flustered and try to run. But as he settled into the routine, performing the whole thing just for his audience of one, Evan seemed to quickly recover from his initial discomfort. Which was against the rules, basically, Johnny fumed. Evan was supposed to cringe and blush and avert his eyes and get mad at Johnny for using ‘unfair tactics’. At every opportunity he amped it up, completely overdoing it, personifying the song’s muse, adding as many caresses and orgasmic faces as he could.

The music swirled to a dramatic finale and Johnny finished by dropping to his knees, legs in splayed V, back arched in sharp bend, throat exposed. He breathed in the silence for a moment before getting to his feet as gracefully as his protesting body would allow. Evan was tapping away at his phone once more, the picture of boredom were it not, Johnny noted with satisfaction, for the subtle stain of red across his cheeks. Easy to miss by the untrained eye, Johnny knew, but he was quite familiar with all of Evan’s many shades of orange. He counted himself victorious, packed up his gear and took off for the hotel, Evan trailing behind, scowling at Johnny’s back.

 

 

Johnny chose to spend lunch downstairs with the group, wanting to avoid isolating himself and no doubt dwelling on what was fast approaching by the minute. Not all that hungry, he poked and prodded his steamed salmon more than he actively ate it. Instead he focused on the conversation around him. He was sitting next to Tanith who was in animated debate over the pros and cons of women’s tights vs men’s pants/leggings with most of their table. Mirai and Ksenia were whispering and giggling to each other on the other side and Johnny pointedly ignored the sidelong looks they were throwing him. He had noticed once he got settled and his meal had arrived that Evan was absent from the dining room, probably upstairs getting a pep talk from Frank at that very moment. Johnny snorted into his quinoa imagining Frank Carroll’s reaction to Stephane’s routine. He almost wished he was present in Evan’s room to hear that conversation. 

Lunch sped by far faster than he wanted, most of the table excusing themselves to catch a quick half hour nap before practice or take a shower. Johnny hung back, avoiding going upstairs, trying to get Tanith to keep talking to him.

“Sorry babe I really need to ice my knee before this afternoon. Good luck with our favourite android this afternoon!” She winked as she abandoned Johnny, grinning cheerfully at his misery.

Refusing to return upstairs, Johnny decided to spoil himself with another latte. He had only drank just over half of what Evan had brought that morning, he reasoned to himself. Further distracting himself, he called up Paris for sympathy and a cathartic bitch session on his way to the Starbucks. If there was anyone in the world who would listen to him snark away about Evan Lysacek ad nauseum it was Paris Childers.

“But like… I still don’t understand why you agreed to this…???”

“I don’t knowww, Paris!” Johnny groaned. “It’s Stephane’s evil Swiss charm or something! That man is evil! I can’t say no to him and… well I mean in theory I kind of love the idea.”

“Yeahhhh but then you have to actually put theory to practice and rehearse and perform a whole pairs routine with the mongoose.”

“I know. I _know_. I temporarily lost my mind, okay?”

“Oh my god Johnny are you going to have to do like… death spirals with Evan? Because I’m pretty sure he will drop you on your head. And how is he going to lift you above his head when you weigh like more than him!”

“Hey! I am _not_ heavier than the jolly orange giant, how dare you, Paris! You haven’t even seen him lately I swear he’s gained like 15 lbs of muscle in his upper body it’s ridiculous there’s no way he can jump the way he used to. Anyways no way am I letting him do anything that may result in my accidental death on his part. Stephane and Kurt say it won’t be traditional pairs like with one of us playing the woman’s role. I mean, not that I don’t love messing around with pair throws and lifts, but there is no way in hell I can skate pairs with Evan.”

“Right,” Paris agreed easily. Johnny hushed him for a moment as he ordered his latte and in an act of kindness (and possibly residual guilt) ordered Evan an americano and Stephane a chai in a bid to engender some charity towards him. 

“But… I dunno why not though?” Paris asked once Johnny brought the phone back to his ear, popping lids on the drinks in their cardboard tray.

“Uhhhhh he will drop me on my head, Paris, are you crazy? I will come out of this tour a vegetable!”

“Ok but like, it would be kind of cool if you take away the whole brain damage aspect.”

“No way,” Johnny grumped. “I can’t fake romance or seduction with that robot. And anyways, Evan would never in a million years have agreed to this number if it was anything other than 110% heterosexual.”

“Yeah I guess. But you know Lambiel, I bet he’ll be pushing things as much as he can.”

Johnny sighed as he pushed through the front doors and headed towards the rink, dragging his feet. “I suppose I’ll have to take as much joy in Evan’s uncomfortable awkwardness when dealt anything sexy as much as I can. Let it give me life, amen.”

 

He was early to the rink so he took his time pulling his skates on and lacing them meticulously. Rehearsal wasn’t scheduled to start for another twenty minutes so Johnny put his earbuds in, putting on his relaxation playlist (entitled “calm yo ass JW” (Paris’ fault)), and took to the ice. He had about thirty seconds to be grateful for the solitude before Evan came trudging in, dumping his hockey duffel and giving Johnny a nod before Johnny forced his attention back to the ice in front of him. Evan had on that thin-lipped expression that passed for nervousness on pseudo-humans who were otherwise incapable of real expressions, Johnny noticed with some relief. It was heartening to know that he wasn’t the only one with a slight knot in his stomach.

Evan joined him on the ice but made no move to start a conversation, looping around the edge of the ice as Johnny lazily practiced choctaws down the centre. After ten minutes or so Johnny returned to the boards and donned his skateguards, pulling his earbuds out and stashing them in his bag. He retrieved his and Evan’s drinks and tromped back over to the gate, setting them on the boards as he peeled the guards off. Catching Evan’s eye as the taller skater looped out of some mohawks, Johnny motioned him over with a tilt of his head. He stepped out on the ice as Evan gently curved towards him. Johnny grabbed their cups and pushed off along the boards, leaving Evan to follow. 

“Skate with me.” He handed Evan his Americano as he drew level with Johnny.

“Thanks.”

“No talking.”

Evan rolled his eyes at him but stayed quiet, falling to step with Johnny. They lapped the rink unhurriedly for the next ten minutes in silence, cradling their hot drinks and focusing on staying perfectly in sync with each other. Johnny wondered vaguely where the other skaters sharing with them that afternoon were, but was distracted by Stephane clattering into the rink with his skate bag on one shoulder and a messenger bag for his laptop on the other. He waved at Johnny and Evan to continue on while he set up camp until finally he motioned them over.

“Good news!” he clapped his hands together. “Rehearsal with Marina this morning was so fast she let David move his rehearsal to her spot tomorrow so Daisuke is using the other rink and now we have this rink for just us!”

Johnny tried to match Stephane’s cheery smile, but only managed it about halfway. At least it was better than Evan’s ‘grin’ which looked more like he was in a large amount of pain (or painfully constipated), Johnny took heart.

“I have gone through everything with Kurt so everything is ready to go but I am very much open to your ideas as well. I want this to be very much a… how do you say…” Stephane snapped his fingers, searching for the word.

“Collaboration?” Evan supplied.

“How sesquipedalian of you, Evan,” Johnny muttered, then chuckled at Evan’s blank look in response.

“Yes yes, a collaboration. A group effort, yes?” Stephane continued, completely ignoring Johnny and Evan like a parent with two bickering children.

Stephane pulled them off the ice and sat them on the benches as he outlined the basic idea of the routine. While there were some classic pairs elements such as side-by-side spins and jumps and throw jumps etcetera, Stephane was most eager to discuss some of the modified, unconventional lifts and tricks he had picked up through a talented contemporary dance choreographer.

“I want this to be like a dance. Not like the the not-really waltzes and things you see in exhibitions, but like contemporary dance. But also a fight. A deadly dance, yes? It must be very smooth and beautiful, very… how do you say, sinus?”

“Sinuous,” Johnny supplied.

“Yes of course, like a snake, yes. Johnny will be the smaller, more agile one, but we do not want you to look like a cave man, Evan.” Stephane rounded on Evan. “You must be graceful still, just with more strength and power, you see?”

“Yeah, no windmill arm flailing and high kicks with those stilts you call legs,” Johnny sniped.

Evan shot him a look before nodding to Stephane. “Yeah sure, sounds good.”

Stephane then showed them some dance videos he had taken, pointing out elements he planned to include and elaborate on. Some of the lifts he was excited about make the bottom of Johnny’s stomach drop out and he shot Stephane an incredulous look. “Are you serious? I’d literally rather do a death spiral! What if he drops me on my head?! I’m going to die!”

Stephane waved his hysteria off, and circled behind Evan, placing his arms on Evan’s shoulders which were clad in a thin black thermal henley. “Evan is strong. You see his big muscles now? He will not drop you,” Stephane teased, caressing Evan’s shoulders as Evan turned an odd shade of red.

“I won’t drop you,” Evan said with confidence despite his embarrassment. 

“If you do I will definitely come back as a ghost and haunt the shit out of you and make sure you never land a triple axel ever again.”

“Yes, yes, anyways,” Stephane continued hurriedly. “We will try some things. You must trust Evan, Johnny. And Evan you must trust that Johnny trusts you. You must be one!”

They both traded slightly disgusted looks which went unnoticed by Stephane who was pacing between the benches and talking distractedly with his hands. “Now let us get on the ice.”

 

 

They began with the more simple side-by-side elements, seeing what fit with their differing styles and bodies and what didn’t. Although, Johnny reasoned with himself, if a tiny 80 lb 5 foot woman can match side-by-side jumps with a 6 foot 160 lb partner, surely they could too. They worked for about 45 minutes with Stephane gliding along beside them and guiding them through certain patterns he had planned out, modifying on the fly with an ease in which Johnny couldn’t help but be proud of his longtime friend; he really was very good at this whole choreography thing. Until Stephane demonstrated the spin combo he wanted them to do, entering with a flying sit spin and cycling through pancakes, corkscrews, shotguns, camels, and scratches, all with unique foot and arm modifications. He exited the combo, posing with a flourish as Johnny went pale and Evan’s eyes bugged out.

“What??” Evan sounded like he was being strangled.

“You can’t be serious.” Johnny clutched his chest. “I don’t think I could do that combo alone even at the height of my career let alone now and side-by-side with this tree-person.”

Stephane grinned. “Yes, yes, ok. I was showing off. We will make it easier. But it must be perfect! And beautiful!” He gave them a tamer version and instructed them to practice it while he went and sorted their music out, popping over to the other rink for the key to the sound unit.

“So he’s still nuts, hey?” Evan muttered as they ran through the combo on their own a few times before trying it together which was an uncoordinated failure first time through.

“Yeah basically. I don’t know how he expects us to do half this stuff. I mean ok, maybe by myself, but in sync with _you_?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You have like eight foot limbs with knives attached to them. I’m imagining this spin combo and I’m envisioning becoming the next Jessica Dube, ok? If you get too close to me with that camel and slice my face I will literally kill you right there on the ice.”

“Come on, we’ll-… I’ll be careful. We can do it,” Evan replied with characteristic determination. “We’ll just have to really practice hard. We can make Stephane proud. We just have to give it our all, give it one hu-“

Johnny shoved Evan. “Shut up. Never speak.”

 

 

They continued practicing the spin sequence until Stephane returned with the key, unlocking the unit and calling them over once he hooked up his laptop. They sat down, Johnny inhaling the last of his latte, and Stephane pressed play. The opening 90 seconds or so was a steady building drum sequence, patient, alternating light and heavy, anticipating. Stephane explained in the story, the two of them would be sort of mythical samurai ninjas (Johnny shut his lips very firmly and didn’t say a word) who grew up together, and this section would be the two of them training as young men; lots of side-by-side elements with syncopation, some ‘sparring’, but not much head on interaction. The music crescendoed and faded, replaced by slow strains of low strings and a plaintive woodwind refrain. The music swelled, violins entering with a beautiful melody, lush, building orchestration reverberating underneath. This was representative of the young men’s tenuous friendship, Stephane said, doomed from the start. 

Johnny gave Stephane a suspicious look which Stephane didn’t seem to register. Instead he carried on with the narrative, telling them that their friendship was not to be, as they became rivals, the routine ending in a battle and both their deaths. The metaphor seemed to dawn on Evan finally, him shooting Johnny a narrowed, bemused look. They stayed silent however, as the strings built to an unresolved sounding chord and there were a few beats of silence before a heavy percussive hit landed with a sweeping, shaking sound followed. More of these followed, slow, echoing, before the music settled into a slow, snaking melody accompanied by shakers and tabla drums, building until the tempo broke into double time. The percussion drove forward, frenzied before coming to an abrupt stop, a beat of silence, and then an echoing voice singing a brief, haunting hindustani melody.

The music ended and Johnny gave Stephane a serious, pointed look. “May I speak with you for a moment?” He didn’t wait for an answer before looping his arm through Stephane’s and hauling him into the nearby first aid office, shutting the door.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Stephane gave him a placating look, started to say something, “Johnny, it’s j-“ before Johnny cut him off.

“No, no. No. What you’re doing is so blatant even _Evan_ picked up on it.”

“The audience will not know the details of the story, Johnny, it is just for us!”

“Anyone with half a brain and some basic knowledge of mine and Evan’s history will be able to piece this together, Stephane!” Johnny gestured wildly, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“We- Kurt and I- we thought playing on history would give the two of you a better emotional performance,” Stephane reasoned.

“Kurt agreed to this?” Johnny huffed. “This is too much! I wanted this to be… I thought we said tongue in cheek! This is way too literal and not at all funny. I don’t want to act out my past drama with Evan! I’m finally, _finally_ , just getting used to not having that whole rivalry hanging over my head every time I step onto the ice with him in the same building! I don’t want to be reminded of it! I don’t want to skate a whole routine _about_ it _with_ that person!”

The rest of his tirade was interrupted by a knock on the door. Stephane gave Johnny a questioning look, to which Johnny heaved a sigh and waved him to open the door, rolling his eyes. Stephane beckoned Evan in, who stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before tentatively settling himself on top of the desk that was sitting against the wall as Johnny paced the room. Stephane looked between them like he was trying to solve a particularly vexing puzzle.

“I am telling the both of you, it will be beautiful. No, it is not about being funny and making a joke of it.” He rounded on Johnny. “Was it a joke to you? Is it a joke to you?”

Johnny glared at him hard, eyes flicking to Evan and then dropping to his skates. “No,” he conceded.

“And you?” Stephane turned his attention to Evan.

“I… no? Of course not,” Evan mumbled uncomfortably.

“Why are the two of you wanting to make a joke of things then?” Stephane sighed. “All these show pieces in this exhibition, think of audience, would not you get bored? Would not you want to see something of… of substance?”

Johnny rubbed at his face, massaging his temples. “This is not group therapy, Stephane. And sorry if I’m not into using one of the most difficult parts of my career as fodder for the audience.”

Evan turned to Johnny sharply. “Johnny-”

Johnny cut him off, halting him with a hand up. “And yes, I’m obviously also _thrilled_ to be forced to be vulnerable in front of _you_.”

Evan held Johnny’s steely glare for a moment then closed his mouth, pressing his lips together in a thin line again and broke eye contact. 

“Johnny. Evan,” Stephane said gently, appeasingly, eyes searching theirs. “There is no shame in being vulnerable, only strength. You are both strong. Please.”

Johnny closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could do it, that he wasn’t strong enough. Not that he would ever admit otherwise in front of Evan anyways, but no, it was that he didn’t _want_ to. The beauty of retiring from competitive skating was that he was free of other people imposing their agendas on his skating. He had nobody to please but himself; no judges, no coaches, no officials… just him. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. And he just didn’t want to do this! 

When he opened his eyes Evan was watching him with an odd look on his face, something unreadable. Their eyes met for a long moment, Johnny searching his face and Evan accepting the scrutiny. Johnny dropped his gaze, then met Stephane’s.

Stephane spoke quickly again before Johnny could say anything. “Just give me a chance. You will see, I will show you.”

 _”Give_ me _a chance.”_

Johnny suddenly felt guilty. Stephane was one of his oldest, closest friends, and Johnny knew he was a talented, wonderful choreographer. Of course it would be beautiful. And wasn’t that what Johnny always wanted in his programs when he skated competitively? Sure, he had full reign over his numbers now, but that meant they tended to be numbers that he found fun to skate; crowd pleasers. Real honest beauty meant vulnerability, and it had been difficult to feel like he wanted to show any vulnerability on the ice to anyone, judges or no, after what happened in Vancouver. He had ripped his heart out for those judges, that audience, those cameras, only to be humiliated. Ok so maybe he wasn’t over it.

But Johnny trusted Stephane. He might not trust Evan, but he definitely trusted Stephane. 

“Ok,” Johnny said. “Ok, show me.”

Stephane’s grin could have powered Chicago for a whole year.


	7. Chapter 7

The first section was the easiest to work through. They began the piece on opposite ends of the rink. Stephane explained that they would begin in total darkness. As the steady drum beat began, spotlights would light them up cueing with the two heavy hits in the music. They circled the ice, eventually meeting near the centre and fanning out again in matching spread eagles. As they drew back around and crossed each other, they set up matching triple flips on the diagonal. It took several passes for them to figure out how to sync up the timing of their jumps since they had two quite different jumping styles. Johnny found himself listening intently for the tell-tale noises of Evan’s preparatory mohawk as he changes edges since he couldn’t see him, then the sharp staccato of their toe-picks digging in at the same time. 1, 2, 3 and the clean sound of perfect exits on deep edges. Stephane shouted at them in glee and urged them to continue with the small step sequence that followed. Evan caught Johnny’s eye and he couldn’t help returning Evan’s triumphant grin.

As Stephane had said earlier, there was less head-on interaction than side-by-side and syncopated elements. There were a few moments however; Stephane had them do a simple pairs sit spin, Evan’s leg extended outwards under Johnny with Johnny’s corresponding leg extended behind him, the two of them holding onto each others’ forearms.

Johnny groused at Evan for gripping too hard and potentially leaving bruises. “Be gentle- I bruise easily!”

Evan rolled his eyes, still grinning. “That’s how hard Anna told me to hold her when we were doing spins while dancing.”

Johnny made a dismissive sound. “Anna is made of Siberian ice. I’m a delicate flower.”

“Ok, Princess,” Evan teased, circling in for another attempt, with a much lighter grip.

It was difficult to find the correct centre of balance, having never done a pairs spin outside of messing around in rehearsals with the girls or the simplest of standing spins in some of the routines. Johnny felt his core muscles straining with the effort to stay low but not collapse onto Evan’s leg underneath him. It was also patently weird spending so much time in a semi-embrace with Evan Lysacek. It was like one of those awkward guy-hugs where you made sure not to actually touch chests or dicks. Evan seemed too engrossed in maintaining momentum while staying balanced to notice, but as they found the centre and figured out how to use their pull on each other to maintain their speed, Evan’s attention seemed to loosen. 

Johnny wasn’t sure where pairs were supposed to look while spinning so he had kept focused on his fingers wrapped around Evan’s forearms until he made the mistake of entering the spin and looking up at Evan’s face for a moment. Evan’s eyes were already locked on his and he had on that intense look he got when he was concentrating and feeling determined. Johnny accidentally gasped and felt his fingers loosen on Evan’s arms and suddenly they were skidding on their asses, Johnny firmly planted onto of Evan’s (injured) leg.

“Ow fuck! Are you actually trying to kill me today or something??” Evan moaned, trying to extricate his leg from under Johnny’s weight.

“You freaked me out! Don’t stare at people like that you big creeper!” Johnny’s heart was beating out of his chest, partly from fear of ending up with Evan’s skate blade embedded in his ass, partly out of some weird adrenaline spike as a result of Evan’s weird staring. What was that even?

“I was just concentrating.” Evan managed to roll Johnny off his leg enough to pull it out of their tangle of limbs.

“By staring at my face?”

Evan’s reply was cut off by Stephane gliding over to make sure they were ok then urging them to their feet to try again. A few more tries and they had it pretty reliably steady. They exited the spin by letting go of one arm and extending the other, letting their grip slip down so their hands were holding and gravity pulled Johnny outwards as Evan stuck his toe pick in, pivoting around as they gently straightened their working legs to a standing position. Evan let go, and Johnny spun with a flourish out of his arabesque and performed a Russian split jump and took off down the ice, Evan looping the other way and the two meeting again for some footwork and side-by-side spins and a throw jump. 

Stephane asked for a double salchow but Johnny was confident he had messed around with throw jumps enough he could easily do a triple and told Evan to give him a little more speed and height. Evan overdid it a little, launching Johnny too high and he landed too deep on his edge, knee bent nearly in half to absorb the landing. He managed to push himself up and saved it, thigh straining with the effort. 

He shot Evan a look as he glided away backwards, shouting, “A triple, Evan! You’re not launching me into outer space!!”

Evan looked apologetic. “Sorry, I haven’t really done these much before!”

“You’re lucky I’m a guy. If you’d done that to a girl you’d have probably broken her leg. Or sent her through the roof.” Johnny looped in for a second pass.

This time he could tell as soon as Evan’s hands bracketed his hips that it would be perfect. It was something that always happened right as you went into it and realised it was going to be perfect. Time seemed to slow down so that every second lasted minutes and he could notice every tiny detail of his take-off. The momentum was just right, and Evan used his speed from his approach, brought him in, absorbed it, let it loop through him and then he pushed it out, slinging Johnny up and over the ice. Evan’s fingers pushed into his skin, gripping his hipbones, probably hard enough to bruise but it felt amazing. It felt perfect. And then they were gone and Johnny was flying. Much higher than he could achieve on his own two legs, high enough that he could probably have done a quad if he had really wanted to. The balance was perfect, he was in the exact position he needed to be in the air, his arms pulled in, ankles crossed. He connected with the ice and it felt less like hitting it than being absorbed by it in the same way Evan briefly absorbed his inertia. He landed perfectly on his edge, knee bent deeply in exactly the right way and he extended his leg out behind him like a cat using its tail to balance, arms winging out gracefully in a picture perfect arabesque.

Johnny felt breathless, alive. He laughed gleefully, circling back around Evan and spinning easily around him. The same grin was plastered over Evan’s features, knowing it was right in just the way Johnny had. He pushed out of the circles Johnny was tracking around him and evaded him, a strange game of tag. Johnny finally caught him by one of his frankly ridiculously long arms and used the inertia to pull Evan to him, knocking his fist against his chest, glowing up at him. Looking down at him, Evan’s face froze and their eyes held for a moment too long, Johnny’s grin slipping around the edges as well as their breath seemed to catch at the same time. Evan’s cheeks suddenly went red and if he had been breathing himself he wouldn’t have heard Evan’s sharp, soft gasp. The exact same one from that morning as he sat straddling the bathtub.

Johnny’s fingers tightened suddenly on Evan’s wrist and Evan winced. Coming back to himself all at once, Johnny exhaled slowly, evenly, and grinned reassuringly again at Evan before skating over to Stephane who was calling to them from the gate.

 

 

The next couple hours sped by as they finalised the first 1/3rd of the routine. Just after 5:00, Stephane called them over again and told them to take a break and then they would run the section and get a start on the 3rd part before dinner, then disappeared into the hallway. Johnny slid on his skate guards and walked gingerly over to his bag, plopping ungracefully down onto the bench. He was out of shape, there was no denying it, at least stamina-wise. Sneaking a sidelong look at Evan as he drank from his water bottle, he was annoyed to find that other than a slightly sweaty brow, Evan looked pretty unfatigued. Evan finished readjusting his skate laces which he had been complaining were too tight for like… the _whole_ practice but completely ignoring Johnny telling him to just ask Stephane for a minute to re-lace them. 

“Could you start the music for me? I just wanna run it quickly by myself,” he asked as he removed his guards and stepped through the gate.

Johnny nodded distractedly and pressed play once Evan was in position at the far end of the rink. He watched Evan with growing interest as he went through the movements, turning their throws into single jumps and their pairs spin into a regular sit spin. He had to admit, Evan did look markedly different than the last time Johnny had really bothered to watch him skate (which, honestly, was his gold medal skate in Vancouver). It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was different though. Johnny realised halfway through when Evan hit a particularly well-time element with the music what it was: Evan had learned to actually listen to the music instead of timing everything in counts in his head. Suddenly Johnny _needed_ to see what his exhibition looked like, _needed_ to see how Evan skated to the lyrical section of their routine. It must have been the result of his time on Dancing With the Stars, Johnny decided. He mentally applauded Anna for doing in a few weeks what Frank failed to do in nearly a decade.

Finishing his run-through, Evan returned to the gate, finally showing some signs of exertion (Johnny noted with satisfaction). Wiping his forehead on his sleeve, Evan made grabby hands at his water bottle sitting beside Johnny on the bench. Johnny rolled his eyes and threw the bottle at Evan who caught it easily, pulling open the cap with his teeth and chugging half the bottle. He closed the cap and pressed it against his flushed cheeks and damp brow, making a noise of satisfaction. Noting Evan’s sweaty too-long fringe and the curling lock at the base of his neck Johnny reminded himself to force Evan to let Johnny trim his hair that night.

“Did I look ok?”

Johnny was taken aback, drawn out of his thoughts abruptly. “What?”

Evan repeated himself like Johnny was slow or something. “Did I look ok?”

“I heard you. I don’t understand why you’re asking me.”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. You were watching weren’t you? We haven’t seen each other skate in a long time.”

“You didn’t have anything to say to me when you watched me earlier.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Johnny glowered at him, capping his own water bottle and taking his guards off, moving past Evan out onto the ice. “Ask me again.”

“Did. I look. Ok.”

“Terrible,” Johnny said and smiled, skating off.

He didn’t even know why he said things sometimes. There was just something that made it so _hard_ to be nice to Evan, even when he was thinking it. He made his way to his side of the rink to start but he could hear Evan skating after him. Johnny picked up his speed and glanced behind himself when he heard Evan take off after him. Evan was grinning at him.

“No! Go away! You are actually a lunatic don’t you dare touch me!!” 

Johnny pumped his legs as hard as he could, circling down to the other end of the ice but he was no match for Evan’s mile long legs. Suddenly he was hooked round the middle, Evan’s arms snaking around his chest and stomach, pulling him back against the body behind his as they slowed to a stop. Evan’s legs bracketed Johnny’s, slowly stopping them like a parent teaching their child how to do the pizza-pie snowplow while learning to ski. Evan’s laughter puffed, ticklish, against his ear.

“You’re not as fast as you used to be,” Evan breathed against Johnny’s ear. “Old man Weir.”

Johnny made a choked sound, though even he wasn’t sure whether it was due to the insult or the warm, damp air tickling the shell of his rink-frozen ear. He turned around in the straight jacket of Evan’s arms to slap his open palm hard against Evan’s pectoral. 

“You are such a bitch,” he informed Evan.

Evan just grinned. “Tell me I looked good on my run through,” the California lilt coming through in his teasing tone.

Johnny wrestled to get away from him. “No. Ugh. Get off me!”

“Just say it,” Evan singsonged.

Johnny was even less inclined to feed Evan’s ego than he was before Evan started being a self-absorbed asshole. “Never!” Johnny groaned, unable to stop his own gasping laughter in his failed attempt to use his arms to push away from Evan’s chest. 

Stephane was right though, he had filled out. Johnny could feel it under his palms on Evan’s chest and shoulders; muscle bulk that certainly hadn’t been there a few years ago when every single pound counted, especially when one was as tall as Evan. Evan’s arms stayed locked in a vice around him, pulling him in and trapping him against his chest as Evan chuckled at Johnny’s fruitless struggling.

“Say it!” he demanded, pulling Johnny even closer, pressing him against his chest, forcing the air out of Johnny’s lungs.

“Let me go you oaf!!” His voice was muffled against Evan’s henley-clad chest, knees sagging in an attempt to slip out of Evan’s arms from below.

Evan caught on quickly however, gliding Johnny backwards until he could press Johnny against the boards to stop him from having anywhere to go. 

“Say it,” Evan growled in his ear. It was meant to be playful, Johnny knew this, but Evan’s voice had dropped, losing the sunny West Coast lilt and suddenly Johnny was gasping for air against Evan’s shoulder and no no no this was not ok. He shoved at Evan again, but it was useless.

“Evan stop it!” he cried, but Evan didn’t seem to register the note of desperation in his voice.

“Say it and I’ll let you go.” Johnny could feel Evan’s lips accidentally brushing his ear as he fought to maintain his control, his hot breath puffing down Johnny’s neck, heat seeming to melt all the way down his body and inwards leaving tingles in its wake. 

Johnny shut his eyes, breath coming in short bursts. “Evan,” he said as firmly as he could, unable to stop the slight tremor in his voice. Evan was still chuckling and wrestling Johnny’s arms, trying to pin them against his sides or his own chest. “ _Evan!_

Evan froze, finally hearing the odd note in Johnny’s voice as he pulled his head back to look down at Johnny’s flushed face and darkened eyes. “I-“

As soon as he sensed the grip around him faltering Johnny shoved Evan back as hard as he could, sending the taller man sprawling onto the ice on his behind. “God you can be such an asshole, Evan!” Johnny hissed at him before skating off on wobbly legs. He yanked his guards on once he reached the gate and stomped out of the rink, leaving Evan still sat on the ice looking bewildered.

 

 

It took him a good ten minutes in the bathroom, splashing his face with icy water to get rid of the redness in his face and meticulously cleaning his hands to calm himself down. He regarded himself in the mirror, deemed what he saw as acceptable and took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom to return to the rink. Fucking Evan. What was that? Who did that besides like…. Stephane, but Stephane wasn’t 8 feet tall and didn’t… _sound_ like that, all deep and growly and… Johnny shivered, half disgusted with himself and half turned on. And then pretty much completely disgusted with himself. He really needed to go get laid. He was actually losing his mind; he was so desperate and depraved he was actually getting turned on by Evan Lysacek.

He forced the thought from his mind, focusing on needing to pull it together and be professional and do his job. Stephane was waiting when he returned. Johnny apologised but Stephane waved him off with a cheerful smile, obviously still eager to keep Johnny happy. Back on the ice, Johnny did a few laps and restrained himself from saying something mean as Evan drew up alongside him. He was only messing around, Johnny told himself. He’s an idiot, but at least he wasn’t intentionally being a jackass to Johnny for once. 

He stayed quiet, eyes ahead as Evan clumsily apologised for not listening when Johnny told him to stop. He admitted earnestly that he had been messing around and that he had just been enjoying being able to goof off and have fun with Johnny and took it too far. Johnny heard him out and graciously accepted the apology, nodding and saying, “Thanks for apologising.”

Stephane called out, asking if they were ready to run things though. Evan peeled away, returning to his end of the rink to assume the starting position and Johnny to his. Stephane gave them a thumbs up and started the music.

They waited through the first two heavy drum hits, where the light cues would be. A light tapping rhythm prompted them to push off, changing edges a few times before laying back into the mirrored spread eagles, spiralling in towards the centre. As they set up the jumps, Johnny turned outwards, facing away from Evan, listening for the telltale signs of the mohawk and pick, knowing they were in sync. They landed perfectly together and Johnny felt his adrenaline spike. There was something that made his pulse race when he felt perfectly in sync with someone; maybe he was meant to be a pairs skater, he grinned to himself.

They pulled into a side-by-side circling pattern, looping around the boards in mirroring images, sharply switching edges with the beats before pulling back outwards. Johnny swooped around, and as the tempo suddenly pushed faster he sped towards Evan who caught him just as easily as the last time, pulling in, absorbing, and pushing out. Johnny flew, spun, and landed in the same deep arabesque as the drums hit with his foot connecting with the ice. He grinned at Evan as he glided backwards away from him. Evan caught his grin, relief washing over his face and a silent thank you for letting things go. 

They crisscrossed, doing a series of intertwining choctaws before coming together and lowering into their tandem sit spin. As they lowered, Johnny half-shouted over the sounds of their blades on the ice, “You can make it up to me by giving me free reign to chop your hair tonight!”

Evan met his eyes, a mix of amusement and dread in his eyes, balance wobbling slightly before drawing his concentration back in and steadying their spin. A deep bass drum hit that vibrated in Johnny’s chest cued them to start standing up, still spinning tightly, and down went Evan’s toe pick, pivoting them around his centre of gravity, Johnny gaining speed before letting go and hitting the split jump with another heavy beat, perfectly on time. They split apart in a series of spirals that looped around before drawing closer and closer together as the music crescendoed, a slow building creeping in with the shivering tinkling of a bell tree. They pulled into their side-by-side spin combo until the music broke into a heavy pattern, exiting the spin and launching into a footwork sequence, working edges and changing direction every few steps.

The heavy beat pattern suddenly died, the bells returning and Evan remained at the centre, pulling into a dizzying scratch spin and slowly bringing his leg up, grabbing it for a shotgun spin and pulling it up fully into what Johnny has to acknowledge was a much more flexible and graceful ‘Y’ spin than Evan used to be capable of. Johnny spiralled around him, outwards, gaining speed and moved in for another throw jump, this time a triple axel and Evan joined him in the additional triple toe they tagged onto the end of it. They flew into another short footwork sequence, coming down the ice in tandem, competing, before they came to a sharp stop, locking dramatic glares as the music is suspended into a few beats of silence. Johnny was the first to break, skating off in well-acted anger to his original starting position. 

Stephane applauded from the sidelines, shouting and cheering and whistling at them. Johnny heaved a breath, hands on hips, circling lazily back to the centre of the ice where Stephane had skated out to meet them. He hugged them both and then set about explaining that he wanted to end with a complicated footwork sequence that would occur near the end of the routine. Johnny shook out his legs, definitely not watching Evan as he dumped the remaining water in his bottle over his head like some sort of idiot. Seriously, that was just asking for a cold. Although, Johnny remembered, Evan did feel like a fucking furnace normally. He shook the thought from his head as they skated to the top of the ice with Stephane and he walked them through the sequence step by step.

 

 

They were late to dinner by the time Stephane called it a wrap for the day, and Johnny was seriously concerned that he may die from this. Not from a blade embedded somewhere vital or being dropped by Evan, but by sheer exhaustion. His legs felt like jelly when he picked up his skate bag to head out and he groaned pathetically, thinking about the several blocks back to the hotel they had to walk. He was never going to make it.

He flopped back down on the bench, keeling over on his side to half-lay on it. “Just leave me here to die. I can’t go on.”

Evan snorted as he shouldered his duffle and then extricated the strap of Johnny’s bag from him, heaving it onto his other shoulder. “Come on.”

This was generally not ok either, but, Johnny reasoned to himself, if he was being totally honest it was either this or the most pointless and embarrassing cab ride ever. His calves had seized up and he’d need to work them out before bed or he’d be completely useless tomorrow. 

“Thank you,” he said evenly, trying to be polite, though it came out a little tense sounding as he was gritting his teeth against the effort of getting back to his feet.

“No worries,” Evan replied easily, lingering at Johnny’s side until he was up and moving. Johnny wondered if Evan would have carried him too. He probably could, too, Johnny thought, admiring the span of Evan’s shoulders from behind before firmly telling himself, _No. Bad boy, Johnny._

They trailed behind Stephane who was chatting away in rapid French on his phone on the walk home, Johnny trying not to wince at how tight his calves were with each step, Evan trying not to look like he was struggling with the bags at all. It seemed to take hours, but eventually they made it back. Johnny peeked into the dining room and found that it was empty of anyone from their group. Stephane ended his call and hugged them both, praising them, before saying he needed to speak with Kurt and taking off.

Johnny and Evan lingered in the hall uncertainly. “I guess everyone’s gone upstairs,” Evan pointed out the obvious.

Johnny held back on saying something caustic but allowed himself a bit of an eye roll.

“What should we do?”

Johnny wanted to deny there was any ‘we’ and tell Evan goodnight, but instead he said, “Room service? Come up to my room, I’m taming that wild animal that has taken up residence on your head.”

Evan ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh Evan. Yes it is,” Johnny said kindly and lead him to the elevators.


	8. Chapter 8

Johnny collapsed onto his bed, leaving Evan to the bathroom so he could get changed into the sweats and t-shirt they had briefly detoured to his room to grab. Once Evan emerged, clad in a pair of slim, cuffed black sweatpants and a thin grey t-shirt, Johnny waved at him to order them something to eat while he changed. Stripped of his practice gear, he took a moment to check himself over in the mirror for any major bruises from the multiple tumbles he took during their rehearsal, but was relieved to find only a few small ones. He pulled on a pair of soft, slouchy leggings and a sweater, not bothering to put any effort into his outfit just for Evan’s sake. Not that he’d know the difference anyways, obviously.

Evan was just hanging up the phone when Johnny entered the living area. “What did you order?”

“It’s a surprise,” Evan replied, smiling in a beatific way that made Johnny send up a silent prayer for his inevitably soon-to-be-deceased diet.

“How long?”

Evan shrugged. “I dunno, probably like thirty minutes?”

“Let’s get started then. Go wet your hair,” Johnny instructed him briskly.

“I just got changed!” Evan whined.

“You don’t have to get in the fucking shower, genius,” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Just stick your head under the bathtub faucet.”

Evan grumbled but headed back into the bathroom. Johnny busied himself replying to a couple texts from his mom and Tara until Evan called from the bathroom, “‘Kay!”

“Why are you naked.” 

“I’m not naked…” Evan peered down his own body as if he needed to double check that he hadn’t accidentally completely unclothed himself in front of Johnny. “I’m wearing pants.” 

“Why is your shirt off.” Johnny grabbed one of the towels hanging from the back of the door and tossed it at Evan, whose head disappeared in a flurry of vicious towel-drying.

“I didn’t want to get hair all over it.” Evan’s disheveled head emerged from under the towel which he playfully tossed back at Johnny. “I hate when you go to the hairdresser and you get all those short prickly little hairs down your shirt. It’s itchy!”

Johnny didn’t bother responding to this, instead draping the towel around Evan’s shoulders and pushing down on his shoulders til his legs folded underneath of him and he sank to the floor cross-legged. “Don’t speak, Evan. Have you ever thought about taking a vow of silence? I bet it would really help with your concentration and focus, you could probably even learn to give something 120%!” Johnny rubbed some de-tangling product in his palms as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and pulled Evan backwards by the shoulders so he was tucked between the V of his knees. 

Evan flipped him off. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.” He made an appreciative noise when Johnny sunk his hands into his hair, working the product through.

“Rule number one: don’t towel your hair off like you’re an 11-year-old trying rub cooties off,” Johnny plowed ahead. “It’s bad for your hair.”

Evan _hmmm_ ’ed, tipping his head back as Johnny gently pulled on his hair so he could get at the front. Johnny grabbed the comb he had placed on the edge of the tub with the scissors and combed out Evan’s dark hair. It was really thick, he noticed enviously.

“Your hair is naturally kind of curly, right?”

Evan made a non-committal noise. “Sorta. Not so much the older I’ve gotten. Just a bit wavy but I usually blow-dry it straight.”

“I’m going to let it go wavy,” Johnny said in a way that invited no argument. Evan just shrugged again anyway.

Johnny picked up the scissors from beside him. “Ok, here we go.”

“Just don’t do anything crazy that will make my publicist freak. Yuki is kinda scary.”

“Scout’s honour,” Johnny replied solemnly, and got to cutting.

 

He got about halfway done when their dinner arrived with a knock on the door, so Johnny went to answer while Evan brushed himself off and left the towel on the counter. Johnny tipped the hotel staff and wheeled the tray closer to the couch as Evan joined him, same boyish grin fixed on his face as when he ordered.

“Did you order me something gross or something?” Johnny eyed him suspiciously as he set the drinks and utensils on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“You’ll see,” Evan said sunnily, peeking under the lids to check whose was whose and bringing them to the table as well.

Johnny sat down gingerly as Evan placed a plate in front of him and then sat down beside him with his own plate. He reach over and pulled the cover off Johnny’s with a, “Voilà!”

It wasn’t a mountain of cheesy, buttery pasta like he’d been expecting, or something completely disgusting and inedible either. “Is… is that-?” Johnny peered closely at it in shock. “Is that what I think it is?”

Evan nodded proudly. “There’s a Russian place down the block; I sent them to pick that up. That’s the stuff you like, right?”

It was a salad. Salad Olivier, to be exact. And while it was neither light on carbs or especially appetizing looking, it was Johnny’s favourite. “Yeah… yes it is. How did you know that?”

Evan pulled the lid off his own steak salad and put the plate in his lap, reclining against the back of the couch. “I dunno, you must have mentioned it sometime and I remembered. I have a good memory,” he explained simply, cutting into his steak.

Johnny looked bemusedly back and forth from the salad and Evan. “And you sent them out to a restaurant to get this for me?”

Evan shrugged again, busy with his steak, but Johnny didn’t miss the how his cheeks coloured very slightly. “It wasn’t a big deal, they do that all the time and the place is literally a block away. Don’t worry I tipped them extra when I ordered.”

“I-… thank you??” Johnny stared at the salad, still baffled.

Evan elbowed him. “Eat it, yo.” His mouth was half-full and Johnny made a face.

“You are truly disgusting.” Evan just elbowed him again, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. “Ok, ok… _yo_.”

He scooped some up on his fork and tried it. Oh daddy. This was too much. He was not ready for this. Johnny closed his eyes and moaned explicitly, chewing. When he opened his eyes Evan was staring at him, fork frozen halfway to his mouth and lips slightly parted in what Johnny knew was anticipation for the mouthful of food but came off looking more like anticipation of another kind.

Johnny scowled at Evan, feeling his cheeks go hot. “Put a shirt on you pervert.”

 

 

Evan did not. In fact, he seemed to take great personal pleasure in taking up as much room on the couch with his bare torso as was humanly possible just to mess with Johnny. Johnny was still primly making his way through his salad when Evan finished inhaling his own, placing the plate back on the coffee table, focused on the TV. After a brief squabble they had mutually agreed on watching Hell’s Kitchen, as Johnny may or may not have found chef Ramsay weirdly attractive. By the time Evan finished Johnny was pressed against the arm of the couch to avoid Evan’s sprawling limbs, knees crossed and plate balanced neatly on top. Evan yawned, absently rubbing his flat stomach in appreciation of his fulfilling meal and stretched out even further, carefully not looking Johnny’s way but the poorly hidden grin was hard to miss.

“I’m trying to eat here.”

“You are the slowest eater ever.”

“Not all of us eat like we’ve been starved in the desert for weeks. It’s not healthy, you know,” Johnny sniffed.

“Whatever.” Evan didn’t move. Johnny pushed at his shoulder.

“There’s a whole half a couch over there all for you.”

“I like this half though. I don’t wanna move.”

Johnny willed himself not to rise to the bait. He was above this stuff now. Evan was just trying to provoke him. He was an adult. He was master of his own mind. Ommm. Eat your salad.

He was silently proud of himself for refusing to engage, finishing off his salad and ignoring Evan’s inane commentary on the show (“Why’s he so angry?” “That dude can’t even cook chicken, _I_ can cook chicken.” “What’s up with that chick’s eyebrows? Are they tattoos? Is that a thing?” “It’s fucking _raw _!!” “Is that William Shatner?” “Chef Andi is a total babe.”) Johnny placed his plate on the table and drew his knees up to his chest, sipping from his glass of water.__

__He had clearly missed something Evan was asking him though, as Evan began elbowing him in the thigh. “Are you eight years old?!” Johnny asked in exasperation. “Stop that!”_ _

__Evan kept jabbing at him with his pointy elbows, though, and Johnny twisted himself in his cramped corner of the couch and used the strength in his thighs to plant his feet on Evan’s torso and push him away. Evan caught his right leg and immobilised it, trying to hold it captive with one arm while grappling with Johnny’s left leg with the other._ _

__“Stop it!” Johnny hated that he was grinning, wishing he was able to school his reaction into something steely and serious. “I am not wrestling with you, you barbarian!”_ _

__He managed to get his left foot planted firmly on Evan’s bare chest and used what leverage he had from the arm of the couch to push Evan down and away. His assailant went flailing onto his back along the far end of the couch. “Ha!” Johnny crowed._ _

__Evan didn’t move from his position, instead he merely stretched his ridiculously long body out and Johnny definitely was not watching and therefore definitely did not notice that the scuffle had dragged Evan’s sweats dangerously low on his hips, revealing a long swathe of taut skin below his navel, framed by the stark V of his hipbones and that stupid fucking tattoo on one side. Johnny suddenly took a very intent interest in the undercooked lamb Chef Ramsay was currently shrieking about (“IT’S FUCKING _RAW_ ,” Evan parroted gleefully), using his his legs as a barrier between him and Evan’s absurd sprawling limbs. Evan rearranged himself so he was once again upright, though Johnny lifted a leg in threat to keep him a safe distance away on the couch. Instead, Evan grabbed Johnny’s foot, moved where he pleased, and pinned it despite Johnny’s kicking and struggling to free it._ _

__Johnny quickly gave up, letting his leg go slack in Evan’s grip, sighing in resignation. Honestly. His attention returned to the TV, where the red team was being kicked out of the kitchen by the furious chef. Johnny watched in vague interest as the dinner service finished and eliminations began, but was suddenly jerked out of his semi-disinterested trance by Evan shifting Johnny’s foot in his lap and pushing his thumb into Johnny’s instep in small, tight circles. Johnny stared at Evan who refused to break eye-contact with the TV but continued to circle his thumb outwards onto the ball of Johnny’s foot._ _

__“What are you doing,” Johnny asked conversationally, involuntarily flexing his toes._ _

__Evan lifted a shoulder. “For cutting my hair.” He glanced at Johnny. “You have really girly feet.”_ _

__Evan pushed Johnny’s foot flat and used both thumbs to push in a hard line from heel to ball and Johnny couldn’t hold back the choked noise that came out of his mouth. It wasn’t his fault- any athlete could attest to the power of a massage on a particularly sore area. Evan grinned, cradling Johnny’s foot in one hand and pinching firmly along his achilles with his other._ _

__“Oh God,” Johnny gasped. “Stop, stop!”_ _

__Johnny shook Evan’s huge spidery hands off his foot, withdrawing it so he was sitting on both feet. “Why?” Evan asked._ _

__“Because once you start that I will not be moving from this spot for the rest of the evening. So unless you feel like showing up for rehearsal tomorrow morning with half your hair cut, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, mister.”_ _

__Evan held his hands up in mock surrender._ _

__“And on that note,” Johnny stretched, groaning as his knees popped, and got to his feet. “Let’s get back to it.”_ _

__

__

__Evan sat obediently as Johnny re-wet his hair then gave the remaining side of his head a mirroring treatment, tilting his head this way and that, chin up, chin down. Johnny retrieved his electric razor from the counter and plugged it in, cleaning up the nape of Evan’s neck and behind his ears. Satisfied with the back and sides, Johnny beckoned Evan to stand and moved him and his tools to the vanity counter._ _

__Johnny patted the counter. “Up,” he commanded._ _

__Evan complied readily, hoisting himself backwards and up so he was sitting on the counter. He was still slightly taller, Johnny still having to look up into his face, but he figured it was as close to level as they were going to get without Evan sitting on the edge of the tub and Johnny on his knees in front of him which… yeah, no. Johnny turned Evan’s head to the side and began snipping away at Evan’s overgrown sideburns and the hair growing too-long over the shell of his ear, then guided his chin to the other side, doing the same process._ _

__It was distinctly… weirder, Johnny realised, doing the front. Did he look at Evan? Did he avoid looking at Evan? This close up it was hard not to look at all his features individually- long nose, strong jaw, stubbled chin, bowed lips- but then Evan would see Johnny looking at his mouth and that was strange and no, he should probably just keep his eyes on his scissors. Evan seemed completely oblivious and unbothered until Johnny finally turned his face forwards, cradling his jaw in both hands. Johnny checked the symmetry on the sides carefully, steadying Evan’s jaw and staying focused, until he noticed the pink flush high on Evan’s cheekbones._ _

__Evan’s eyes were already on his when Johnny raised his, but he didn’t immediately glance away like Johnny knew he normally would have when he was uncomfortable. This close, Johnny could see the way Evan’s focus flicked back and forth between Johnny’s eyes, giving the impression of a searching look. Johnny suddenly felt parched, his mouth like cotton wool, lips dry. He unconsciously wet his lower lip with his tongue. Evan’s eyes caught the movement and dropped to Johnny’s mouth, caught there for a long moment before returning to Johnny’s eyes. Evan’s lips parted slightly and Johnny could hear his next inhale, too loud in the echoing space of the bathroom._ _

__What the _fuck.__ _

__“Chin down,” Johnny said quickly, voice feeling raspy and unused. He tilted Evan’s head down with his hands which were still cupping Evan’s jaw._ _

__Johnny gave himself a mental slap across the face and pointedly refused to think about the fact that Evan’s entire line of sight was currently comprised of Johnny’s torso and thighs. He ran his finger’s through the long, thick strands on the top of Evan’s head and also pointedly refused to think about the way Evan had gone slack and compliant when Johnny had pulled his hair earlier, or the sound he had made when Johnny first sunk his fingers into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp. No, definitely not thinking about any of those things._ _

__Johnny wanted to die, right then. This was not not NOT ok. Things were far more dire than he had originally taken account of. He needed to get laid, like, yesterday. He might even have to resort to seducing Adam or Florent, Johnny thought feverishly. As horny and sexually frustrated as Johnny had been in his life (and really, what with his… ‘restrictions’, for a teenager and young adult, it was a _lot_ ), he had never resorted to fantasizing about Evan Lysacek. Alright fine, there may have been a brief period as a hormone-ridden teenager before Evan had developed his tanning addiction and Johnny was young and naive and lonely… and ok, sure that time during COI when Johnny had just broken up with Drew and he was horny and lonely and he walked into the showers at the rink and was like 90% sure he walked in on Evan jerking off and it was kind of hot but only because Johnny was lonely and horny. Under normal circumstances he would never. So he just needed to… normalize his circumstances!_ _

__Johnny centred himself with his next breath and carried on, trimming and shaping Evan’s hair on top of his head. He worked his way forward, gradually tilting Evan’s head back the closer he got to his forehead. Steeling himself, Johnny brought Evan’s chin level as he finished, looking up into his face once more. See? Totally fine. Totally not alarmingly turned on by Evan Lysacek. Momentary lapse of sanity is all that was. And… all the other times recently. So he was going crazy. Whatever, it was better than being unwillingly attracted to Evan of all people._ _

__Except Evan was looking at him with that weird intense expression and his eyes were so dark, almost black right now- not their usual warm earthy brown colour- and Johnny couldn’t breathe properly and this was really just appalling. Johnny could feel Evan’s knees braced against his hips, trapping Johnny in the V of his thighs. Johnny’s hands were still sunk in Evan’s hair, one on top and one cradling the back of his skull so he could tilt his head at will. He could feel his arms like dead weights. Gravity pulled on them, dragging his hands down Evan’s jaw and the back of his neck where Johnny could feel the heat radiating from Evan. Could feel Evan’s massive hands come up to bracket his waist, long fingers cinching inwards like a corset, a strange echo of his grip earlier that day on the ice. Johnny watched helplessly, feeling as though he was having an out-of-body experience, as Evan’s gaze flickered again between Johnny’s mouth and eyes._ _

___He’s going to kiss you!!!!_ a horrified voice shrilled in his head._ _

__“Are you wearing make up?” Johnny blurted, feeling his face turn scarlet._ _

__It took Evan a moment to recover, mouth sagging open, breath held. He exhaled. “What?”_ _

__Johnny dragged the pad of his ring finger gently along the skin above Evan’s cheekbone, under his eye, and inspected it. “Make up. You’re wearing concealer.”_ _

__Evan’s brain still seemed to be catching up, he looked dazed, awkwardly dropping his hands into his own lap. “I… yeah I guess so I-“ He stopped short as Johnny dragged his thumb along the same patch of skin, eyes narrowed in suspicion._ _

__“That’s not very hetero, Evan.” Johnny rubbed his fingers together, looking slightly distasteful._ _

__“What?” Evan said again._ _

__Johnny made a disgusted sound as he examined the tacky concealer on his fingers. “This stuff is gross. At least being Olympic Champion means you can afford some good concealer,” Johnny chided, setting the scissors down._ _

__Reaching behind Evan, Johnny retrieved the packet of cleanser pads he bought heaps of every time he visited Korea. He pulled one out, the fresh cucumber scent filling the air between them, and steadied Evan’s head with a hand under his chin. Johnny gently scrubbed away the concealer from under Evan’s eyes. He did have to admit, Evan had done a half-decent job in applying it considering how much there was and that Johnny had only just noticed it. The thought occurred to him that that probably meant Evan wore under eye concealer a lot which made something in Johnny’s chest twist strangely._ _

__“Evan,” Johnny breathed as he wiped the last of the concealer away. “Jesus, Evan.”_ _

__Without the make up the pouches under Evan’s eyes were much more pronounced, puffy and swollen looking. He looked beat, literally. No wonder he’d caked this paste on- he looked like he had two black eyes._ _

__“What the fuck.”_ _

__Evan glanced away, embarrassed. “I… I don’t sleep well.”_ _

__“Are you sleeping at _all_?” Johnny asked doubtfully, more than aware of Evan’s… ‘training schedule’ when they were competing._ _

__“Yes,” Evan said, slightly defensive, then he seemed to suddenly sag under the weight of Johnny’s skeptical gaze. “Sort of.”_ _

__“What does ‘sort of’ mean?”_ _

__“It means I get a couple hours in a night,” Evan admitted reluctantly._ _

__“What about last night. How much sleep did you get?” Johnny felt inexplicably angry, though he wasn’t sure where the anger was directed._ _

__Evan hesitated. “Um. Maybe an hour? Hour and a half?”_ _

__Johnny stared. “And that’s normal. For you.”_ _

__Evan didn’t meet his gaze, shrugging noncommittally instead, staring somewhere at floor behind Johnny._ _

__Johnny dragged his hands down his face in frustration. “Jesus Christ.”_ _

__“It’s fine- I make it work,” Evan said, a hint of his characteristic determination evident in his voice, and suddenly Johnny had a focus for his anger._ _

__“Yeah, I can tell that’s really working for you, Evan,” Johnny responded acidly._ _

__“It’s not that big a deal!” Evan protested._ _

__Johnny scoffed in disbelief. “You’re going to end up killing yourself from sleep dep, you know that right? Or making yourself very sick at the very least.”_ _

__“It’s not your problem,” Evan mumbled, brow creased._ _

__“Except for how it totally is now that we’re doing this stupid routine! You’re going to land yourself in the hospital, Evan!” Johnny could feel himself shouting. He didn’t even understand why he was worked up. Evan was right, it really wasn’t his problem; He could do his job here with or without Evan and their ill-advised routine._ _

__“I-“ Evan started and stopped, heaving a sigh at the ceiling before he looked down into Johnny’s face in resignation. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything about it. It’s not like I don’t try.”_ _

__Johnny instantly felt guilty, anger fading away. He felt his brow furrow in concern. “I know you never used to sleep much, but an hour or two? You’re retired, Evan.”_ _

__Evan rubbed at the back of his neck. “I know, I know. It’s-… I’ve been to a doctor and they just keep throwing pills at me and I don’t like being on medications and they all made me feel groggy and weird and-… and they just didn’t seem to work.”_ _

__“Ok,” Johnny sighed. “Ok, I’m sorry for getting mad. It’s just… you need to take care of yourself. You need to just turn off your brain and let yourself go to sleep. I mean, you slept fine the other night when I was there.”_ _

__Evan suddenly blushed, cheeks burning. “Yeah. Yeah I know. It was weird.”_ _

__“… How so?”_ _

__Evan shrugged stiffly. “I dunno. It had been such a long day and I was so tired and you were being exhausting and I was trying to be nice and do the right thing and you just make everything so _hard_ , Johnny. And then you finally fell asleep and I laid there for a while and eventually you turned over and-…” Evan looked away, cheeks florid again. “And you just like… snuggled up along my side and I just fell asleep! I don’t know how. It just happened! And then the next day- the next day I took a **nap** with you. I don’t even remember falling asleep! One minute I was sitting working on an email to my mom and the next we were cuddling and I was choking on your mullet and I think I got more consecutive sleep in those 24 hours than I have in the last year!” Evan finished in a rush, looking mortified._ _

__Johnny stared at him for a long moment. “I mean, probably because you had exhausted yourself to the point of collapsing, Evan,” he reasoned._ _

__“Yeah, maybe,” Evan agreed without any conviction. Johnny could tell he didn’t believe it._ _

__“Alright, look,” Johnny felt a rush of uncustomary tenderness towards Evan in that moment. “I’ll give you some stuff to help with your dark circles and general look of expiration. After, you go try your best to get some sleep. Then come back up in the morning and I’ll fix your face for you, ok?”_ _

__Evan nodded glumly._ _

__Johnny set about rifling through his toiletry bags to find the right serums and creams. “Your hair is done, by the way, check it out,” he informed Evan distractedly._ _

__Evan slid off the counter and surveyed himself in the mirror, turning to see the back as best he could and gently mussing the longer, wavy strands on top._ _

__“You just need a little bit of product. **No gel** ,” Johnny said firmly, making emphatic eye contact with Evan. “Just some wax or pomade. Here.”_ _

__He unscrewed the lid on a small circular tub of stuff that smelled like Hawaii, scooping a small amount out with two fingers. Johnny rubbed his hands together and sunk them into Evan’s hair again from behind, watching Evan watch him in the mirror._ _

__“Don’t look at me, look at your own head so you know how to style this properly, you twit,” Johnny admonished, fingers tightening briefly in Evan’s hair if only to see that loose look steal across his face again, then working the pomade through gently, mussing the hair artfully._ _

__Johnny presented the finished package with a, “ _Voilà_ ” and Evan looked slightly shocked. “I like it.”_ _

__Johnny grinned proudly and went back to amassing his collection of skin products. Evan continued to peer at himself in the mirror, gingerly feeling the longer locks on top, turning from side to side, shaking his head gently to see how the short waves of hair moved. He ran his fingers along the shaved edges of his nape and felt the short strands on the sides, left just long enough to curl slightly around his ears._ _

__“You’re really good at this, Johnny,” Evan hummed appreciatively. “I kind of love it?”_ _

__It came out sounding more like a question than a statement, to which Johnny huffed a laugh. “It suits you. You look good, Evan,” Johnny acknowledged warmly, meeting Evan’s eyes momentarily through the mirror before quickly looking back at the tiny tube he was examining. “I mean, minus the whole on-death’s-doorstep-aesthetic you’re currently working.”_ _

__Evan looked embarrassed and warm, but also pleased. “Thanks?”_ _

__Johnny waved him off and scooped the collection of tiny tubes and jars into his hands. “Come sit on the bed.”_ _

__He dumped the assortment in the centre of the bed as Evan climbed up, arranging himself so he was sitting cross-legged. Johnny quickly grabbed a hand towel and followed, seating himself directly in front of Evan, one leg out to the side and the other tucked semi-underneath himself. He didn’t mind doing this one bit; he would never admit out loud the number of times he had intensely yearned for the chance to show Evan a proper skincare and make up routine that didn’t involve self-tanner and bronzer. Johnny arranged everything in the correct order before uncapping the first bottle (a gentle eye cleanser) and scooting closer to Evan, leaning in. The position was slightly awkward with Evan’s 10 metre legs folded in front of him and so Johnny hooked his free leg over Evan’s knee, sitting forward on top of his own leg folded beneath him._ _

__Evan didn’t seem to know where to look with his lap basically full of Johnny which would have been kind of endearing and cute, if Johnny hadn’t had the exact same issue just earlier with rather alarming results. Luckily this time he knew exactly what he was doing with practiced ease. Johnny leaned further in, dabbing the cleanser around Evan’s eyes, instructing him to open or close them. He kept the other hand steady on Evan’s cheek and jaw, tilting his head this was and that again. Evan was entirely pliant underneath his hands, like putty. But Johnny could feel a strange underlying current of tension, like underneath he was working very hard at doing something. Or perhaps not doing something? Johnny absolutely did not think about that moment in the bathroom._ _

__Working his way through the tubes, bottles and jars, Johnny applied cleansers, serums, lotions and creams. By the time he was done Evan’s skin was dewy and looked markedly less puffy. Johnny extricated himself off of Evan and returned the products to he toiletries bag as Evan inspected his face in the mirror._ _

__“It should look a little better in the morning. Maybe. Hopefully you can get some sleep tonight. And make sure you take the bandage off your leg and let it breathe tonight. Put some more polysporin on in the morning,” Johnny said briskly, tidying up._ _

__Evan nodded, distracted by feeling the now-baby-soft skin around his eyes and cheekbones. “Right, sure.”_ _

__Johnny came up beside him and smacked his hand away. “Stop prodding at it, you’ll irritate it again.” Evan rolled his eyes, but stopped._ _

__They quickly cleaned up their dinner dishes, replacing them on the cart and leaving it outside the door. Evan hovered awkwardly at the door before Johnny finally took pity. “Go get some sleep, Evan. Text me in the morning,” he said kindly._ _

__Evan nodded, but still didn’t move to leave. He seemed to be struggling with saying something. Johnny regarded him patiently. “I-… Could I maybe-” Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ok. Goodnight, Johnny. And thanks.”_ _

__Evan was halfway down the hall before Johnny called as quietly as he could, “Thank you for the salad! I mean it!”_ _

__Evan smiled tiredly and disappeared into the elevator._ _


	9. Chapter 9

_u up?_

_no_

_yes u r_

_no. go back to sleep_

_i’m coming up_

_NO._

 

 

“I’m not opening the door. It’s not even 7. Fuck off.”

“Come on.”

“No. Go back to bed, Evan.”

“I can’t sleep.”

Johnny wrenched open the door and glared suspiciously at Evan. The dark circles were still there, perhaps a little better, but he still looked slightly sallow and jaundiced. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“I dunno… like… a few hours.” Evan looked evasive.

“A few hours like three or four or a few hours like less than two?”

Evan didn’t say anything, just gave Johnny a flat look.

Johnny sighed and ran both hands through his sleep-rumpled hair. “Come in.” He turned and walked away, leaving the door ajar for Evan to follow.

Johnny groaned, flopping face-first back onto the unmade bed as Evan followed him into the bedroom. “I’m sorry,” Evan said quietly.

Johnny waved a hand and turned his head sideways so he could speak. “What if we slept here. Could you go back to sleep for a couple hours?”

“Uh…” Evan considered, settling himself on the edge of the bed beside Johnny’s prostrate form. “I don’t think so to be honest. I’m pretty awake. I was going to go for a run.”

“Then go. Please. Bring back coffee.”

Evan laughed. “Come with me.”

“No,” Johnny growled. “Go away, you’re driving me nuts. I’m having an Evan overdose.”

“Don’t be rude,” Evan chided.

“I’m not. I can’t handle this much un-distilled Lysacek after all these years. It’s too much. I’m going to catch orangeness from you.” Johnny hid his face again.

Evan gently whacked Johnny backhanded on the shoulder. “You’re such an ass. I don’t even use tanner anymore.”

Johnny’s face appeared to give Evan an accusatory look. He held up his forearm to Evan’s. “Oh really.”

“Honest. I was in Mexico last month and I’m Greek! I tan easy!”

Johnny grumbled, but had to admit, if only to himself, that Evan didn’t actually look _that_ orange anymore. Still though. It was like part of his DNA or something. He did not think about the sight of Evan’s toned, browned torso spread out on the couch last night. Nope.

“Get up, let’s go!”

Johnny lurched up and flung his dead weight over Evan, knocking him flat on the mattress. Evan shouted, startled, but quickly dissolved into laughter. Johnny sprawled messily, draped over his torso, and waited for him to quiet down.

“Here, isn’t that nice? Nice comfy bed, much better than your room’s. Don’t you want to go back to sleep? Wouldn’t that be nice?” he slurred into Evan’s shoulder.

Evan wrapped his arms around Johnny’s waist and rolled them off the bed, picking him up and walking to the bathroom as Johnny half-heartedly kicked and flailed and protested. Evan deposited him on the bathroom counter, handing him his hairbrush and setting about squeezing toothpaste on Johnny’s toothbrush then leaving and rummaging through Johnny’s suitcase to find clean work-out clothes.

“I’m serious you know,” Johnny called, muffled around the toothbrush in his mouth then paused to lean over and spit in the sink. “I can only stand so much of you per day. I have to deal with you all morning in rehearsal again.”

Evan reappeared and only rolled his eyes, dumping the armful of clothes into Johnny’s lap with his trainers and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Johnny stared at the clothes for a moment before shouting at the closed door, “You’re not my boyfriend, Evan!!”

 

 

The run was less than enjoyable. Johnny spent the first half of it dragging his feet and the second half overcome with competitive spirit and trying to race Evan which only resulted in him completely exhausting himself before a full day of rehearsals even began. They returned to the room and Johnny flopped himself face-first again onto the bed.

“Tell Stephane I have died. He’ll have to skate the routine with you instead.”

“I’m gonna use your shower,” was Evan’s response.

Johnny dozed a bit as Evan showered, still draped akimbo on the top of the duvet with his sneaker-clad feet dangling off the edge. Evan emerged after about fifteen minutes in a cloud of steam and Johnny didn’t even have the energy to tell him off for not turning on the fan. 

“Go on, your turn.” Evan prodded Johnny’s leg. 

Johnny moaned a wordless objection, swatting at Evan blindly. Evan urged him a few more times before taking hold of Johnny’s left ankle and pulling his shoe off, then the other. He made a gagging noise, as if Johnny’s feet smelled bad, but bitch please Johnny regularly deodorized his shoes. They smelled lemony, thankyouverymuch. He felt Evan peeling off his socks, which was weird, but not nearly as weird as the fingers that hooked themselves into the waistband of his leggings. They pulled slightly, in warning.

“I’m gonna pants you if you don’t get up.”

“No you won’t. You’d pass out from lack of heterosexuality if you saw my ass. Besides, I’m not wearing underwear.”

“Yes you are, liar.” 

With that he was swiftly divested of his leggings. And ok, he had been bluffing; he was wearing briefs. Like hell he’d go running without everything…. contained. 

Johnny lay there boneless for a moment before looking over his shoulder with a mordant expression. Evan was standing there at his feet, leggings dangling uselessly from one hand beside him. He quickly raised his eyes to Johnny’s, two spots of colour high on his cheeks giving him away slightly.

Johnny held his gaze for a moment before commenting, “You’ve gotten weirder,” and twisting off the bed, grabbing his leggings out of Evan’s hand as he passed and making his way to the bathroom. “I don’t blame you for looking though! My ass is superb!”

 

 

Johnny purposefully took the last available chair at Yu-Na, Brian, Adam and Daisuke’s table at breakfast. He hadn’t been lying when he told Evan he had a limit. Sure, he could admit maybe they were approaching something vaguely friendly, however much he kicked and scratched as Evan dragged him into it. At the very least they had arrived at a manageable cease-fire. Of course, it was entirely dependant on Evan not stuffing up and ruining it with some douchey heteronormative comment, and given his track-record, Johnny was not all that optimistic for the longevity of their truce. However, for the sake of his sanity Johnny figured he would do his best personally to keep the peace- after all, he didn’t want to disappoint Stephane or Kurt or anyone else.

All that being said, Johnny was still struggling with… so _much_ Evan. Not even when they had been sort-of-actual friends years ago had they spent so much time together. And then obviously everything had gone to shit and after the Olympics, Johnny had only run into Evan briefly a handful of times at events or exhibitions, and always in the company of friends who were more than willing to provide an excuse to whisk either of them away before they could do more than exchange a stiff but civil greeting and a few moments of harmless polite small-talk. Going from being at each other’s throats to zero contact and now this… well. It was enough to drive a man to drink. Which was a really terrible idea because Johnny was an unapologetic (and unfortunately indiscriminate) slut when he was drinking and considering the disturbing nature of certain lines of thought he had been having lately… _well_.

So the only answer really was to try and control his Lysacek-dosage. It was like training in the fall: you didn’t just jump into 7-hour suicide sessions (unless your name was Evan Lysacek obviously); you eased yourself into it. Or like swimming in the ocean. You went in a few feet, waited for your submerged skin to go numb and then took another few steps and oh my what a lovely visual of Evan wading into the ocean wearing a very tight pair of briefs and the waves lapping at that douchetastic tattoo and the cut of his hips and his flat st-

Johnny dropped his head onto his arms on the table, oblivious to the conversation bouncing around him. Why was this his life? What had he done to deserve this? What awful sin had he committed unawares to be punished with such thoughts?

Yu-Na touched his arm lightly. “Johnny, are you alright?”

“No,” Johnny groaned.

 

Johnny forgave Evan a sliver when he showed up at the rink again with Johnny’s latte. But only a sliver.

 

 

Rehearsal continued much as it had the previous evening. Stephane asked if they could begin by running the first section, claiming it would help his ‘creative juices’ start flowing. Johnny was feeling a little out of sorts and overtired from overexerting himself the day before and his questionable decisions during their run that morning and as a result the run-through was not as clean as they had left things the last night. Stephane seemed unconcerned, and thankfully Evan didn’t comment, though Johnny didn’t miss the way Evan handled him with more care this morning in their pairs elements.

As they met in the middle of the ice following the run-through Stephane explained that they would finish up the third section before working on the middle section. 

“You will like it Johnny,” Stephane said excitedly, referring to the middle section. “It is lovely. I have had it planned in my head for some time.”

Johnny smiled warmly at Stephane, his enthusiasm and eagerness to appeal to Johnny’s favour inescapably endearing. “I’m sure I will love it, darling.” 

“What about me?” Evan asked, faux-affronted.

Johnny patted his arm kindly. “No one cares what you think, honey.”

The choreo for the third section went smoothly, though Johnny thought he might keel over and die when Stephane demanded they run the extremely difficult footwork section for the sixth time. The section started off easily enough, Johnny and Evan circling each other like cats, coming almost close enough to engage before sleekly pulling away. They ended up at opposite ends of the rink in an echo of their starting pose. As the tempo doubled, they took off down the centre of the ice towards each other in a completely synchronized footwork sequence which Johnny had already grown to hate despite having just learned it.

First off, it was as hard as anything he had ever done in a competitive routine, and would have actually stood up in current competition as well, which made it hard enough all by itself especially considering the fact that it was at the very end of a nearly 6-minute routine- a whole minute and a half longer than any normal free skate program, even. Second-off, it was even harder to coordinate the timing with Evan so things stayed perfectly together despite being on opposite ends of the ice and Evan having about 4 feet of extra leg on him. It took everything Johnny had on about three separate occasions to not have a complete meltdown fit at Stephane’s unrealistic expectations. The only thing that kept him going was his determination not to let Evan outpace him. 

Stephane promised it was the last time he’d ask for it and Johnny swallowed his protests, eager to move on from this section. He grit his teeth through the footwork section, Evan and his eyes locked as best they could through all the edge changing, spins and choctaws to remain in sync. They finally met in the middle and spun around each other, moving swiftly but smoothly in and out of a sequence of lifts Stephane had made them practice a million times on the mats in the rink’s gym before he allowed them on the ice. 

Thankfully there was nothing involving Johnny being lifted above Evan’s head and therefore being at risk of death by head-first-dropping-on-ice, but there was a fair amount of poses where they were semi-entwined or Johnny was balanced precariously on Evan’s back or shoulders that made Johnny’s core muscles burn with the effort of maintaining the positions. He would never admit it out loud but he was amazed and frankly pretty impressed that Evan had the energy to carry both their weight and maintain speed and balance considering he was running on less than two hours of sleep. 

They got to the end of the lift sequence, Evan finally managing to grab hold of Johnny’s dodging in and out in a clever lift-exit on Stephane’s part. From behind, Evan’s arms created a vice around his chest and neck, pinning his arms to his to his sides and his body flush against Evan’s. As they came to an abrupt stop, Evan’s arm around his throat flew out dramatically and mimed stabbing Johnny in his stomach. The music came to a sudden stop, the silence deafening for a sliver of second after the din of rushing percussion. The wailing voice entered and Johnny let his legs go out from under him, trusting the arm locked around his chest to keep him upright. Evan jerkily dropped to one knee letting Johnny slip listlessly to the ice as he planted a hand down in mock (but really not-so-mock) exhaustion. Johnny lay limp for a few long moments with Evan a few feet away, hunched over and breathing heavily so the audience could see his laboured movements. 

Then, as Stephane had instructed, Johnny suddenly grabbed the imaginary blade from his stomach and lurched up, rolling towards Evan and sank it into his heaving chest. Evan’s expression was an admirable dramatisation of betrayed shock and he went stiff, grabbing blindly at Johnny, hand finally finding his shoulder and around the back of his neck, grasping desperately. Johnny clutched at his stomach in faux-agony as Evan jerkily collapsed beside him, eyes locked intensely. He waited for Evan to go lax, arm slipping from his neck to flop heavily onto the ice before Johnny sprawled beside him.

The song ended and Johnny sat up with a frown as Stephane came skating over. “The ending doesn’t feel right. I have way too far to travel to stab him and I keep slipping on the ice. He needs to be closer to me, probably hovering over me for it to work properly.”

Evan nodded breathlessly in agreement, righting himself so he was propped on his hands behind him, legs splayed out in front of him. His face was flushed and sweaty, much like Johnny’s own. “He’s right, it’s too awkward. I would have too much time to react.”

Stephane _hmmmm_ ’ed thoughtfully before shrugging. “Yes ok, Evan you will let him drop and then you will plant your hand right beside him, yes? Then Johnny you will not have to move your body at all. Let’s try it, _non_?” He skated off back to the boards, leaving Johnny and Evan to clamber to their feet, wincing and grunting at the soreness of their bodies.

“From the exit of the lift, yes?” Stephane shouted across the ice at them, cueing up the music.

They got into position and went through it.

“Yes, _oui_ , much better!” Stephane cried.

 

Stephane blessedly called an end to rehearsing that section, waving them off the ice to take a breather before beginning the final round of choreo. Evan clomped off to the bathroom while Johnny hydrated himself, sitting beside Stephane on the benches.

Stephane patted Johnny’s thigh apologetically. “This section will be easier, I promise. There is one lift and a jump but that is all.”

Johnny nodded wordlessly, still slightly out of breath.

“It is looking very good, you know,” Stephane commented tentatively. “You and Evan, you skate well together.”

Johnny scoffed, shooting Stephane a disparaging look.

Stephane looked affronted. “It’s true! You do! You look good together.” He nudged Johnny’s side with his elbow, giving him a sly look.

Johnny smacked his arm away sharply. “Shut up! Don’t tell lies, you crazy foreign person.”

Stephane merely cackled and purposefully invaded Johnny’s personal space, pressing up against his side and petting him anywhere Johnny’s flailing arms failed to ward him off.

An abrupt end to the shenanigans was brought about by the pointed clearing of a throat behind them. Stephane scooched himself a respectable distance away from Johnny on the bench as Evan lumbered into view, flopping down on the bench beside his bag and extricating a bottle of Gatorade.

“Ready to go?” Stephane asked brightly.

Johnny nodded, stretching before heading back to the gate and removing his skate guards. Evan grunted and chugged half his Gatorade.

 

 

Stephane was right, of course: Johnny loved the the second section of the program. It was expressive and soft and beautiful. They took their ending poses from the first part, Johnny back at his end of the ice and Evan still in the middle. The low strings entered and Johnny pushed a hand out from himself as if pushing something away, turning his face from it and swept his leg out in an arc as he moved in a small circle, body twisting. It was a small, quiet gesture in comparison to how big everything was in the first and last sections. 

In the centre of the ice, Evan echoed the movement along with the answering musical phrase. Johnny pushed off from his position, arcing a wide berth around Evan and switching directions as he passed him on the centre line, gliding backwards. He circled around the other side of the boards, laying back in a spread-eagle, avoiding Evan who pivoted around slowly, following his progress. 

The music swelled slightly, the violins entering with the melody, and Evan seemed to pull into himself momentarily before breathing outwards, pushing backwards and around in a pretty little move Johnny knew for a fact Stephane had stolen from one of Johnny’s own routines. Johnny had given him a wry look, arching a brow at Stephane when he had demonstrated it for Evan. Stephane had winked at Johnny and held a finger to his lips behind Evan’s back as Evan tried the move for himself. In fact, there were rather a lot of those small gestures Stephane seemed to be covertly slipping in and Johnny hoped fervently that some die-hard fan out there would recognize Evan skating tiny hints of Johnny’s choreography. Johnny had kept his mouth shut, but gave Stephane the ‘I’m watching you’ sign, squinting as he pointed from himself to Stephane. Stephane had merely grinned unapologetically.

Spinning gently out of the movement, Evan pushed into a series of graceful, beseeching movements, eyes locked with Johnny. Small spins, edge changes, around in a tight circle mirroring Johnny’s wider one. Johnny had nearly laughed aloud when Stephane had showed him the small passage, explaining to a very intent Evan exactly how to nuance each tiny gesture. There was no way in hell Evan could pull off some that… well, _pretty_. Evan didn’t really do the whole… _emoting_ thing. However his amusement quickly died when Evan gave it a try. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good. Johnny was well aware that Evan’s career success could be mainly attributed to sheer willpower and mind-over-matter. Regardless of any natural lack of grace and musicality, he had managed to work through it (at least in the eyes of the ICU) and overcome it. But that was just the thing- Evan was supposed to have to _work_ for that. He was supposed to commit himself to endless hours on the ice to force his body to move in a way he didn’t naturally move. Or… hadn’t? Did now? Johnny was actually too surprised to be pissed off about it, truthfully. He filed it away for things to be mad about later. So Evan had improved. Whatever. Johnny still had and would forever have more gracefulness in his pinky finger than Evan had in his entire body. Maybe. Hopefully.

As Evan moved out from the centre of the ice Johnny turned toward the empty centre, lining up a jump. In the last moment Evan suddenly drew alongside him and they spun into a triple axel followed by a double toe, Johnny again listening for that perfect syncopation of toe picks and landing edges. Stephane had asked for an easier jumping pass with a double toe-double loop, acknowledging that this section was supposed to be their ‘rest’ in the piece, but then Evan had decided to triple the toe. On the next pass Johnny had turned the toe loop into an axel. Evan had protested at first, but with enough goading from Johnny (who, let’s face it, still had a better triple axel than most of the kids competing today), the tables turned and he was refusing to back down to an easier jump. Evan was so easy, Johnny mused happily, regardless of newfound agility.

They separated as they exited the jumping pass, peeling away from each other momentarily before looping quickly back around, rapidly gaining speed until the met again. The music peaked, strings reverberating richly through the space and Johnny dipped smoothly in towards Evan who pulled him in, swung him easily around within his arms in a half turn that placed him so they were facing each other, Evan moving forwards and Johnny backwards. Grasping each other’s arm with one extended behind their bodies, they gently pulled away in an arabesque as they swept across the ice. Reaching the far end of the rink, Evan pulled Johnny back in towards him and swung him back around, pulling him around him several times as they curved around the boards and back across the ice on the diagonal. 

Reaching the opposite end of the ice, Johnny pulled into a spin as Evan looped widely around him and as Johnny spun out into an arabesque, Evan caught him around the waist and used his momentum to hoist Johnny onto his hip, moving swiftly along the boards. The lift was not anywhere near as complicated as what Johnny had feared from Stephane and they had even managed to shorten it with in favour of fitting in a playful, fast-paced sequence in which they looped teasingly in and around each other. It was deceptively simple looking, but as beautiful as always with Stephane’s choreography. Coming around the far bend of the rink, Johnny dancing teasingly away from Evan’s grasp, the music suspended on an unresolved note as Johnny came too close and Evan’s fingers curled around his forearm.

As the held note faded into silence, Johnny gave a tug on his arm captured in Evan’s grip, but it held fast. He purposefully let the grin on his face fade and his fingers curl into a fist. Stephane let the final section’s music begin as Johnny forcefully yanked his arm out of its prison, blades slicing, susurrous, backwards across the ice and mimicking the sweeping noise in the soundtrack as he backed away.

The music abruptly cut out and Johnny looked over to where Stephane was and saw Kurt settling down beside him. It was just about time to break for lunch, having worked through this section fairly quickly, and Johnny could feel his stomach clenching with hunger. He and Evan mad their way over to the boards and greeted Kurt.

“Hi boys. Hope you don’t mind if I check up on what you’ve put together. Stephane says it’s looking great.” Stephane nodded emphatically.

“Well… we’re trying,” Johnny panted. “Stephane is a regular slave driver.”

“Maybe we run it one more time before lunch so Kurt can see?”

“Of course,” Evan said readily.

They pushed off towards their starting positions and Johnny felt what was either some mild trepidation… or hunger pangs. Probably both. They hadn’t had anyone come check out their progress and Johnny had a feeling that Stephane had banned the other skaters and choreographers from their rink. Settling into his stance at the end of the ice, Johnny locked eyes with Evan and gave him a short nod. Evan shot him a reassuring smile and nodded himself to Stephane to cue the music.

Luckily the run-through went well. There were a few mistakes but all the major elements were clean and it was nothing that was dire. However, it was the first time they had run it top-to-bottom and as Johnny finally sprawled bonelessly onto the ice at Evan’s feet, he thought he might actually be dying. It took a monumental effort just to lift his arms and shoulders off the ice and mime stabbing Evan. When they both finally collapsed at the end, Johnny was gasping for breath. He tilted his head and looked over at Evan who was face down on the ice, breathing hard and clutching at his chest. Johnny couldn’t stop the breathless gasp of laughter that burst from his throat. Attention caught, Evan glanced up at him and broke into a grin. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and splayed his arms and legs out like a starfish. Johnny looked up at the bright lights on the ceiling, willing himself to slow his rapid breaths.

Stephane and Kurt were applauding and hollering at them. Steeling himself, Johnny turned on his side and pushed himself into a sitting position. Beside him, Evan rolled back over on his stomach and clambered onto all fours. Finally he got to his feet, using his toe picks as anchors, and offered a hand to Johnny.

“I can’t,” Johnny panted. “I can’t get up. You’ll have to drag my lifeless corpse back to the boards.”

Evan laughed and grabbed hold of his hand, dragging Johnny a few feet before abandoning the attempt. “Get up, princess.”

Johnny gave a whining moan but finally managed to get his feet under himself. The pair gingerly skated back to the boards, Johnny massaging his tailbone which he was sure was bruised after taking a nasty fall earlier in rehearsal on a jump. Kurt was chattering to Stephane brightly as they approached them, and once they had donned their skate guards and seated themselves on the benches, Kurt rounded on them eagerly.

“Boys that was fantastic! Not to say I wasn’t expecting it to be good, but that really is above and beyond expectations!”

Behind Kurt, Stephane grinned at them like a proud parent.

“Thank you,” Evan said politely, still getting his breathing under control.

“I’m so glad you two were open to this idea. It’s going to be great.” 

Johnny smiled wanly. “Thanks Kurt. It’s still a little rough around the edges, though.”

Kurt waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense, it looks looks brilliant.”

“I do wish we had one more rehearsal on it…” Evan lamented.

Kurt scratched his bald head, humming gently. “Well… tomorrow afternoon we’re doing a run-through of all the group numbers with costuming. It shouldn’t take too long- I want everyone to get a good sleep before we head off the next morning. But if you want I’ll make sure the ice is available for you two if you want to get some extra time in to practice.”

“Yes,” Evan agreed quickly. “Please.”

Johnny was tempted to scold Evan for needing his rest, but it was true- they needed more time. He nodded his assent to Kurt.

“Excellent. Consider it done. Now off to lunch we go. Best get a move on, I think the costume department is going to be hunting you two down for fittings before heading back here this afternoon.”


	10. Chapter 10

Upon arrival back at the hotel, Evan waved him off, heading towards the elevators. “I gotta shower and make some calls. I’ll just have a shake.”

Johnny shook his head but said nothing, heading into the dining room. Tanith waved him over towards the empty seat between her and Jeremy. The waiter had fortuitously just arrived at the table and Johnny ordered himself a salad with smoked salmon, divesting himself of his bags and jacket before sagging limply into his chair.

Tanith eyed him curiously. “What happened to you??”

“I am deceased. Stephane has killed me,” he whined melodramatically.

“Not Evan?”

Johnny sighed. “Surprisingly, no. He’s been… not so bad I guess,” he admitted reluctantly.

Tanith patted his arm sympathetically. “He’s tolerable at times. When he’s being a normal human being and not Frank Carroll’s Frankenskate creation.”

“He seems different,” Johnny said uncertainly. “I dunno though, it’s probably just a matter of time. I’m not holding out hope.”

“But it’s going ok, the routine?”

“Yeah I suppose. As in, we’re doing ok. The program is a nightmare though, Tan. I want to die.”

“I thought you were already dead.”

“ _I’m_ Frankenskate right now, brought unwillingly back to life. But I long for eternal peace, and I have faith that this fucking program shall deliver me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Tanith you have no idea. Wait till you see it. I mean… Stephane is brilliant and I love him, but this routine is insane. It is quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever skated and I have to get on the ice and perform it in a few days. With Evan. I’m serious, I want to _die_.”

Tanith chuckled. “I’m sure it’s going to look fabulous, darling. Now tell me all about it. Did you know Stephane has been locking us out of the rink so we can’t see what you guys are up to? Suffice to say, rumours are abound. Last I heard the three of you were performing a tantric orgy-on-ice.”

 

 

Johnny had just finished his meal when the costume assistant found him, giving him a room number to come to for his fittings. He begged her off, desperately in need of a quick shower before trying on costumes, and she agreed to give him fifteen minutes to freshen up.

Short on time, Johnny hurriedly bid Tanith goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. “Let’s hang out tonight. You, me, and the minibar. See you at dinner!”

After taking a brief shower, Johnny headed down to the room the assistant wrote down, politely knocking on the door. The assistant, Meghan, opened it, face lighting up when she saw who it was and ushered him inside. Evan was already there, half-in his outfit for one of the group routines he was in with the head costumer helping him into the shirt.

“Hey,” Evan greeted. “How was lunch.”

Johnny shrugged, toeing off his shoes and draping his jacket over the back of a chair. “I’m somehow still alive so I suppose it must have been pretty good.”

The head costumer, Andrea, instructed Meghan which costume to pull for Johnny and told him he could get changed in the bathroom.

Johnny scoffed. “Darling, ain’t nothin’ you haven’t seen a million times. Or him, for that matter.” Johnny nodded towards Evan who was distracted by the complicated row of buttons lining the cuffs of his poet’s shirt. 

Johnny promptly stripped down to his underwear, taking the hanger Meghan handed to him. It was the outfit for Marina’s group number which was inspired by Footloose. The men were all wearing tight blue jeans and white tees or tank tops, so it took just a moment to check that the sizing was correct. Andrea grabbed her notepad, scribbling a check next to Johnny’s name for that costume before turning back to Evan, seeing he had sorted out the buttons.

“Here, honey,” she said sweetly, handing Evan a caramel coloured waistcoat. “This next.”

Johnny took off the white tank and hung it back on the hanger, handing it to Meghan before starting on unbuttoning the jeans.

“There we go, a regular Mr. Darcy.” Andrea turned Evan around, patting the creases out of the back of his waistcoat. Evan caught Johnny’s eye just as Johnny was pulling the zip down on the jeans. His eyes darted momentarily down at his hands before returning to Johnny’s face, cheeks pinking immediately.

Had they been alone Johnny would have either teased him or admonished him for being such an awkward mongoose. Being as it was, he did neither, and instead surveyed the costume. Andrea was right, he did look rather like he’d stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. Which was to say he looked rather… dashing, Johnny supposed. It was strange. As were a growing amount of Johnny’s thoughts towards Evan lately. Luckily it had always been easy to gain the upper hand with Evan. Andrea was busy fussing with the fit of Evan’s waistcoat and Meghan with finding Johnny’s next costume, so Johnny took the opportunity to mess with Evan unnoticed. He smirked deviously, raking his eyes over Evan’s long frame, lingering obviously at the tight fit of the pants and then all the way down his long legs. He flicked his eyes back up to Evan from under his lashes, pleased to see Evan looking unsettled, repeatedly looking away but unable to stop himself from looking back.

Johnny flashed him a wider grin before rubbing a hand over his collar bone and pushing it out to his shoulder then diverting downwards over his bare chest. He watched as Evan’s eyes followed the progress of his hand down his chest and stomach. He dipped his fingers into the V the open zipper had revealed, showing his briefs, then ran the tips of his fingers along the waistband of the jeans before hooking his thumbs into the belt loops and pulling the fabric down his hips.

Meghan chose that moment to appear with Johnny’s next costume and he finally looked away from Evan, grinning easily at her as he unceremoniously removed the jeans and shook them out, handing them to her in exchange for the hanger she was offering him. As she turned to return the jeans and tank to their costume bag, Johnny glanced at Evan again, expecting to gloat silently at Evan’s glowering expression. Evan wasn’t glowering, however. Instead he was watching Johnny intently, eyes dark as he was semi-silhouetted in the light from the window. Johnny found himself unable to break the gaze, caught, and his heart seemed to skip a beat before thudding hard in his chest. He was suddenly aware that he was only wearing his underwear and shifted uncomfortably. Andrea buzzed chattily around Evan, talking to herself as she pinned a few seams. Satisfied, Andrea declared herself done and Evan stood compliantly still as she helped him out of the waistcoat and shirt without pulling any of the pins out. She left him to the pants as she turned away towards the racks of costumes. 

Johnny watched, feeling strangely helpless and unable to control himself, as Evan mirrored Johnny’s actions right back at him, running palm and fingers over hard muscles until he reached the waistline of his pants. There was no zipper or buttons at the crotch though; instead, Evan pressed his palm flat to his stomach, pushed the tips of his fingers below the fabric and slowly slid his hand down into his pants. Johnny glanced up suddenly towards Evan’s face, suddenly unsure of what was happening. Evan raised his eyebrows before the twitching at the corners of his mouth turned into a full grin. Johnny scowled at him, greatly displeased with this turn of events and turned his back to Evan as he unzipped his costume for his routine with Sasha. He bent over, ass up, to pull on the costume and hoped that grin on Evan’s face had slipped off as he tried not to look. In what universe did Evan Lysacek beat him in a game of gay chicken?!

 

 

The rest of the fitting went quickly; their matching Gatsby-ish costumes for their number with Yu-Na needed surprisingly next to no alterations. Last were the outfits for their own routine. Johnny had to admit he was rather surprised when he saw them. Knowing Stephane (and Kurt), he was expecting something pretty… busy. Instead, they were mostly black and relatively simple. Evan was clearly pleased. As Johnny pulled his on, though, he realised there were plenty of small details that would catch the eye without being distracting. Once they were in their costumes, Andrea directed Johnny to go stand next to Evan. As he drew closer he saw that where his costume had some subtle dark red accents, Evan’s costume was accented in charcoal grey. There were no sparkly rhinestones or illusion mesh, thankfully, but there were a few small details that Johnny appreciated. A couple of the black twists of fabric across the chest were done in some sort of slick, sequinned material that caught the light and reflected and gave texture. Johnny moved gently from side to side, watching the way the fabric sparkled darkly like oily scales. Between most of these twisting sections of fabric instead of plain black underlay, there was a slightly sheer black material that gave the costumes a kind of sinister sex appeal

The whole outfit was very fitted, and Meghan and Andrea were busy pinning seams and pulling at the fabric. “Who made these?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, they got made a while ago, dear. Stephane flew in with them from Switzerland,” Andrea explained distractedly.

“What?” Evan squawked.

“So he had them made without even knowing if we’d do the routine?”

“I don’t know, dear. I guess he must have figured it was a sure thing. They’re much more work than we would have been capable of doing on short notice. My team and I here in Chicago have been working via correspondence with these choreographers for weeks now. Luckily most of the pieces are simple or pre-made.” She wiped at her forehead, taking a few pins from Meghan and putting them between her lips as she peered at a particularly vexing seam under Evan’s armpit. “It’s a good thing the costumer left a bit of room in the seams, you’re quite a bit bigger in the chest and shoulders than they made it.”

She finished pinning Evan’s seams and sighed. “You’re going to have me up all night sewing, sweetheart!”

Evan looked apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Nonsense. You’re still a growing boy.” She winked at him, patting his shoulder before moving onto Johnny and leaving Meghan to help Evan carefully out of his costume.

Johnny’s costume needed less tweaking as he was roughly still the same size as he’d always been. Before long Andrea clapped her hands and declared him done, unzipping him gently. Evan was already dressed, tucking his phone and wallet back in his pocket.

“See you later?”

Johnny nodded, feeling proud that he was able to hold back the “unfortunately” that automatically wanted to come out. Progress!

 

 

Exiting the elevator into the lobby, Johnny checked his watch. He was lagging a little later than he’d wanted and had missed the shuttle that they had running between the rink and hotel before and after meals, but would still get on the ice on time if he hurried- he didn’t want to be late for another rehearsal with David. He set out at a clipped pace out of the hotel and down the street. Less than a block out he caught up with Ksenia and Mirai.

“Johnniiiiick!” Ksenia sing-songed as he drew level beside them.

Johnny smiled sweetly to them. “Hello, ladies.” He blew a kiss to them, intending to carry on past them.

“Johnny wait!” Mirai cried, short legs pumping to keep up with his pace.

“You’ll have to keep up if you want to chat- I can’t be late,” he warned them as they trotted beside him.

“How are your rehearsals with Evan going, Johnny?” Ksenia inquired, clearly trying to sound casual.

“Surprisingly well,” Johnny said truthfully.

“And you two? How’s it going with you and Evan?” Mira interjected, abandoning any attempts at sounding casual.

Johnny was aware that Mirai saw Evan as something akin to an older brother, and he chose his words carefully. “Also surprisingly well.” He smiled kindly at her.

“You guys have been spending lots of time together, huh?” Ksenia said slyly. Johnny suddenly became suspicious of where this was heading.

“Well yes, there was the first night and then with the rehearsals I guess…” he trailed off warily.

“Yeah but you guys have been hanging out outside of rehearsals,” said Mirai.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘hanging out’. And how do you know that anyways? Are you guys spying on us??” Johnny gave them a stern look.

Mirai shrugged easily. “Evan and I text a lot.”

Johnny sighed, stopping himself from rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. “We’re trying something new,” he said diplomatically.

“Johnny, are you and Evan dating?” Mirai blurted. Ksenia squawked and elbowed her in the side, dissolving into giggles.

“What?” Johnny blanched. “No! No I am not dating Evan Lysacek are you two insane??”

“Well maybe you should!” Ksenia teased.

“What??”

Mirai looped her arm through the crook of Johnny’s elbow and looked up at him appeasingly. “Evan’s a really nice guy. He’d be a super sweet boyfriend.”

Johnny looked appalled, lost for words. “You’re both crazy. I gotta go, bye!” He took off at a run towards the rink.

He distinctly heard something about “Who’s on top!?” amidst the retreating giggles.

What the hell? And since when did Evan Lysacek date guys? Mirai was nuts, and clearly Ksenia had been infected. Johnny shook his head and jogged up the steps to the rink.

 

 

Rehearsal with David and Sasha that afternoon went smoothly despite his soreness and finished up with enough time for Johnny to head back to the hotel early and fit in a phone call to Patti and catch up on social media. He still had about half an hour before dinner when they finally hung up, so he indulged in a jacuzzi bath since he wouldn’t be able to have one later what with his plans with Tanith. The jets felt like heaven on his abused muscles and he wanted to just melt and stay there forever. Eventually he forced himself to turn off the jets, pull the drain and drag his protesting body out of the tub.

Feeling marginally more human, Johnny went down to dinner and found most of the tables empty. Meryl and Charlie were sat alone at one table, so Johnny headed over to them, anticipating Tanith joining Charlie and leaving a chair between them. They chit-chatted easily for a short while, Jeremy arriving and taking the chair beside Meryl, before Tanith entered, taking the spot between Johnny and Charlie. She leaned in and gave Charlie a quick kiss, then flopped in her seat dramatically.

“God. I am totally wiped.” Most of the table nodded in agreement. 

“Hey, at least you guys are all in competitive shape; us retirees are all fat and complacent. I was convinced I was going to die on the ice all day today.” Johnny made a show of sticking out his stomach and rubbing it.

“At least your own partner isn’t trying to do you in,” came a voice over his shoulder.

Johnny looked up and found Evan hovering over his shoulder behind the empty chair to his left, smiling teasingly down at him. There was a beat of heavy silence where everyone at the table held their collective breath, waiting for Johnny to snap back something mean. And it’s not like the words weren’t ready to come out, Johnny admitted to himself. But he reminded himself of their conversation the first day.

He looked down at his cutlery, running a finger down the handle of the knife and shrugged. “Old habits die hard.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder at Evan and the table seemed to exhale in unison, tension released.

Evan tentatively pulled out the chair beside Johnny, moving slowly, and eased himself into it, trying to keep his mouth from smiling and failing rather dismally. Johnny refused to look at him, continuing to finger the knife. Once fully seated, Evan let out a dramatic exhale and sagged loosely in the chair. Several of their table mates were giggling at the exchange. 

“Look how far you’ve come. I’m so proud of you boys,” Meryl simpered sweetly.

“I know right.” Evan invaded Johnny’s space, putting an arm around his shoulders and grinning cheesily. 

Johnny gave him an unimpressed look but didn’t struggle out of his embrace. “Don’t push it,” he said, though the effect was mitigated by the unwilling smile he was trying to hide.

Food was ordered and conversation carried on relatively normally, though Johnny couldn’t help but notice the curious looks that were sent their way every time he and Evan interacted in any way. He supposed he understood- it was a bit of a 180, and none of them had been privy to their rehearsals or the time they’d spent one-on-one. The attention was a little unnerving though.

As if reading his mind, Evan leaned over and said into his ear, “How long till they stop staring at us like we’re an attraction at the zoo?”

Johnny snorted, drawing interested looks once again. He felt his cheeks going pink from the unwanted scrutiny. “Probably never if you keep whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Did you know Ksenia and Mirai think we’re dating?” he said back into Evan’s ear.

“What?!” Evan yelped, turning to meet Johnny’s eye. “Seriously? Why?”

“Oh yes. Apparently because we’ve been spending so much time together. _Apparently_ you text her a lot.” Johnny whispered into his ear again.

Evan had the good grace to look slightly shame-faced. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal- Mirai’s like my little sister. We talk a lot.”

“I can see that.” Johnny said lowly, raising his eyebrows at him before leaning in towards his ear. “When I said we weren’t dating she told me we should be and that you’d be a ‘super sweet boyfriend.’”

Evan buried his flaming face in his hands. “Oh my God.”

“I’m pretty sure they were one hundred percent serious too. Seriously, what the fuck!” Johnny hissed conspiratorially, grinning helplessly at Evan’s mortification.

“I don’t know. Mirai’s impossible,” Evan mumbled.

Enjoying Evan’s embarrassment despite the ever-more-curious looks they were receiving, Johnny leaned back in to the ear facing away from the table, purposefully letting his lips briefly brush against the shell of Evan’s ear. “They actually asked me who was on top,” he murmured, let his breath puff against Evan’s ear.

Evan jerked away from the touch but Johnny left his face where it was, Evan craning his neck awkwardly to stare wide-eyed at Johnny for a long moment. “You’re lying,” he said flatly.

Johnny smirked and withdrew, relaxing into his own seat. “I wish I was.” He was consciously aware of the fact that he was flirting, and publicly as well. He prepared himself for the imminent interrogation he would suffer at the hands of Tanith in a short while. 

Before Evan could reply, their food arrived. Evan cast Johnny one last look, a strange mix of suspicious and beseeching, before abandoning the conversation in favour of his chicken. Johnny winked at Meryl’s bewildered expression across the table from him and tucked into his sea bass.


	11. Chapter 11

Johnny walked with Tanith and Charlie back to their room after dinner so Tanith had a chance to change and drop off her things since she had gone straight from the rink to dinner. After giving Charlie a kiss and telling him not to wait up for her, they headed up to Johnny’s suite. He opened the door with a flourish, motioning Tanith inside chivalrously. She spent a few minutes exclaiming over things and cursing him for his luck (“Hell, _I_ would have slept one night in a bed with Evan again to get this room!”) before she flopped onto the bed, reclining luxuriously. Johnny changed into some comfy clothes and then broke open the minibar.

“What’s your poison?”

“Oh I don’t know. Let’s drink everything. Let’s just get wasted,” Tanith laughed.

“Normally I would say abso-fucking-lutely,” Johnny said. “But we do need to actually function tomorrow still. We’re no spring chickens anymore, baby. I definitely can’t do hangovers like I used to.”

Tanith pouted. “Ok, point taken. But we’re still getting buzzed. Let’s have tiny mimosas.”

Johnny collected the orange juice and the small bottle of champagne and dumped them on the bed, heading back into the bathroom to retrieve the two glasses beside the sink. He held the glasses still for Tanith to pour the drinks. 

“So!” Tanith began, reclining against the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. “How _are_ you? We’ve hardly had a moment to actually talk and you’ve been mysteriously AWOL so far, Mr. Weir.” She arched her well-manicured eyebrow at him.

Keen to put off the inevitable bombardment of Evan-related questions as long as possible, Johnny shrugged and said, “I know, I know, Kurt has left me with not one spare moment. I’m not kidding when I keep saying I want to die, Tan. This is the hardest I’ve worked since Vancouver. Ugh.” Johnny took a healthy swig of mimosa.

“Poor baby,” Tanith simpered teasingly. “Life is so hard when you’re popular, huh?”

Johnny swatted at her. “What about you? How are things with Charlie?”

“Oh good. Charlie’s a dream.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Not for a couple years, we think. There’s still Sochi and we’ve agreed to wait till after that so we can really give it one last go. I might move back to Michigan though…”

Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Good for you guys. It’s good to see you happy.”

Tanith smiled and rubbed Johnny’s knee affectionately. “What about you? Seeing anyone?” she said slyly.

“Nope,” Johnny said firmly. “Things have been insane. I literally have zero free time right now. We’ll see when my schedule calms down a bit. I’m still riding a wave from all the Vancouver hype, but it won’t last forever. I feel like I need to take advantage of it while the interest is still there though.

Tanith nodded. “I hear you. But I’d like to see you find someone.”

“I know,” Johnny said softly. “We’ll see.”

Tanith graciously changed the subject off his relationship status and they spent the next while sipping their drinks (and divvying up the rest of the juice and champagne) and talking about their lives outside of skating, their families and friends. Eventually Johnny raided the minibar again for some vodka and sodas, checking his phone as he returned with the bottles, letting Tanith pour. There was a text from Evan.

_busy?_

_hanging out with tanith_

_o ok_

The little ‘…’ hung in the grey bubble on Evan’s side of the message convo for a little less than a minute before it disappeared. Johnny stared at it for a moment longer, waiting to see if it would reappear before shrugging and tossing his phone towards the pillows and starting up with Tanith again. The conversation turned back to the tour, the numbers they were in and how the rehearsals were going. Johnny tried skimming over the details of his rehearsals with Evan but Tanith was not having it. Slightly tipsy by now she jostled him with her feet, tickling his sides.

“C’mon I’ve been so patient, you can’t invite me up for drinks and _not_ tell me about what’s going on with Evan!”

Johnny giggled, trying to steady his drink as Tanith continued to assault him with her feet. “There’s nothing going on! We’re skating a routine! I told you about rehearsals!”

“Johnny Weir don’t you try that with me! I know you and I’ve _dated_ Evan for heaven’s sake. Don’t think I didn’t miss all that flirting tonight at dinner. And your very suspect absence since you arrived. Or the fact that Evan somehow has a new haircut between yesterday afternoon and this morning!”

Johnny dropped his empty glass on the floor before wrestling Tanith’s legs flat and lying on top of them. “It’s nothing! We’re trying to move on or whatever!”

Tanith set her glass on the side table and levelled Johnny with the most serious gaze she could muster given the alcohol consumption. “Johnny, please. Tell me, I’m your friend.” She paused, hesitating, before pushing on. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Johnny sputtered indignantly. “No! Why does everyone keep asking me that?!”

“Because you two are acting… weird!”

“I’m not acting weird. I’m just… being nice to him. Nice-ish.”

“Which is weird.”

“No it’s not. We’re retired. We talked and we’re trying to… I don’t know. Let bygones be bygones.”

“You’re flirting with him,” she said bluntly.

Johnny looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable. “I flirt with everyone.”

“Not Evan. And he’s flirting back. It’s _weird_ , Johnny.”

“I… I don’t know. He’s fun to mess with. He turns into such a big spaz. Or… he used to?”

“Not anymore?”

“Not so much it seems. You said it yourself, he flirts back. _That’s_ weird.”

“But you still try to one-up him.”

“I know. Tan, he beat me in gay-chicken earlier today. I’m _gay_ and he beat me in gay chicken!” He spilled the details of their interaction during the costume fitting that afternoon, which opened up a stream of word vomit recounting all the strange behaviour the last few days of Evan’s decidedly un-heterosexual behaviour. However, he left out talking about the strange, suspended moments that kept occurring between them. For some reason they felt… private.

Having heard him out, Tanith shook her head in bewilderment, apparently lost for words.

“And after lunch today, Ksenia and Mirai accosted me and asked me if Evan and I were dating and when I said no Mirai, _Mirai_ , aka Evan’s little skating-sister, says that we should and that Evan would be a ‘super sweet boyfriend’, Tanith. Since when is Evan dating men? Is she just crazy or am I missing something? Last I heard Evan was the one true hope for the USFSA’s hetero agenda.”

Tanith looked briefly discomfited for a moment. “I mean… Evan never said anything to me if that’s what you’re asking. I think we’ve all maybe wondered at one point or another, myself included, but honestly he’s never said a thing to me or done anything… at least not that I know of,” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Hmmm… well he certainly doesn’t seem off-put by it. Like, at all. And Mirai said… I don’t know.” Johnny rolled his neck side to side and then propped his chin on his hand, huffing.

“Well, maybe he’s… realised some things? Maybe he’s talked to Mirai.”

Johnny snorted. “I love Mirai and I know she thinks the world of Evan but she’s pretty much the worst secret-keeper on the planet. If Evan trusted his bi-secret with her then he’s dumber than I thought.”

“Would you be shocked if he was? Bi, I mean?”

“I… guess not? Yes and no. On the one hand, I always thought he had a case of lady-doth-protest and all that and yeah, I mean, I may have made some less-than-classy comments about him in the past to the press about it, but it was just because it was such an easy target and I didn’t actually think… I dunno. At the same time though, if he is, how could he go along with all that super macho, 100% hetero schtick the federation foisted on him?”

Tanith shrugged. “That’s something you’d have to talk to him about, Johnny. Maybe now that you’re friends you can have that conversation in a healthy way. Just know that it wasn’t simple or easy for him. He struggled with it. And he’s different from you. He used to actually be kind of jealous of the way you were just so self-assured and unashamedly you.”

Johnny thought on this for a while before shaking his head. “I’m too drunk to properly process this.”

Tanith giggled. “Same, to be honest.”

Johnny grinned and slid off the bed, finding them another drink. “So… do you think he is?”

“I honestly don’t know, I haven’t thought about it in years. I had my suspicions back then but it was only speculation. Though seeing the way he’s been acting around you…” Tanith glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Would it change anything for you?”

“What? No. I don’t know.”

“Johnny.” Tanith pulled his shoulder around and met him eye-to-eye. “Are you attracted to Evan?”

The denial was on the tip of his tongue before he stopped himself. “Maybe,” he groaned instead, flopping onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Oh??” Tanith said interestedly, peering at him closely.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t tell- it’s been ages since I’ve gotten laid, my judgement is not good right now.”

“Well it’s not like you just met him, Johnny. Did you ever find him attractive before?” 

“I guess yes, I would say he’s an attractive guy. But not like… oh, I wanna jump him or anything!”

“And do you feel that way now?”

“I… kind of,” he mumbled as Tanith squealed in delight. “Oh my God, Tanith please just kill me!! This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me! I’ve lost my mind!”

“No you haven’t,” Tanith scoffed. “Evan’s a good looking man. And he’s gotten considerably more attractive in the past few years. I can see that, it’s pretty obvious. You’re allowed to be attracted to an attractive guy.”

“No, Tanith,” Johnny shook his head, grabbing her arm and staring up into her eyes imploringly. “Not to Evan I can’t. It’s a disaster. I need to go out and get laid immediately. This is some horrible side-effect of my self-inflicted celibacy.”

“Ok, ok, hear me out. What if-“

“ _No._ ”

“Shut up. _What if_ … Evan was into it too? Would you even consider?”

“No!! That’s literally the worst idea anyone has ever come up with in the history of mankind, ever!”

“Why not!?”

“I can think of about a million reasons, and I won’t even bother giving one since I know you know why. He doesn’t anyways. Isn’t.”

“I think he is.”

“I think you’ve lost it.”

“Johnny, listen to me. Seriously here, I’m being totally honest. I dated him. I know what he’s like when he’s into someone. He never looked at me the way he looks at you. He never followed me around like a puppy or brought me coffees or let me cut his hair or do his make up or even flirted with me publicly. I mean, obviously he’s grown up a bit and is less of a total weenie about things, but still. Think about it. Why not even just consider it.”

Johnny stared at Tanith wide-eyed for a moment before sitting up abruptly. “What are referring to here exactly. Fucking Evan? I have over two months of needing to maintain a working professional relationship with him ahead of us- we’re doing a routine together!”

“Maybe it would be fine?” Tanith said uncertainly.

“And maybe it wouldn’t. I can’t afford to mess up what we’ve got going right now. It’s good right now, Tan. If I want to still be able to skate this number with him by the end of the tour I need it to stay good.”

“Well… what about… not just sex?”

“Like… dating?” Johnny said incredulously. “Tanith. Tan. That is even crazier than sleeping with Evan. Which is fucking insane all by itself. He’s a headcase. _I’m_ a headcase!”

Tanith laughed. “You could balance each other out! Maybe Mirai’s right, maybe you could be good together!”

“You don’t actually believe that, come on. I appreciate your conviction in me finding a happy relationship, but do you _really_ think Evan Lysacek is my happy ending?”

“Ok probably not,” she admitted, giggling. “Still though, it would be cute.”

“Do you know he only sleeps like an hour or two a night? Did he do that when you were together?”

“What? No. An hour?! How is he alive? Oh my God, maybe Frank _did_ turn him into some sort of cyborg.”

“But that’s not it. That night I shared a room with him? He slept a whole six hours, took a nap with me that afternoon and we woke up _cuddling_ , Tanith. I mean, he was draped on top of me.”

“Awww, see?” She said sweetly, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him dreamily. “You’re meant to be. He’s the princess and you’re his pea.”

Johnny shoved her into the mass of pillows. “That makes no sense, you drunkard.”

 

 

Sometime after midnight, Tanith checked her phone, sighed, and immediately yawned. “I guess I should go back to my bedwarmer. Unless he’s gone out on the town with the boys. I’m super wiped though… bedtime for grandma Tanith.” She groaned, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. Johnny hmmm’d noncommittally, not moving to get up.

“Wanna trade beds? You can go sleep with Charlie and I’ll sleep here. With Evan,” she winked playfully.

“I’ll take ‘what is sleeping in my own bed alone?’ for $400, Alex.” Johnny slurred, half asleep already.

“Fine, spoilsport. I’m out, then. Night night, darling.”

Johnny leaned up to receive her kiss on the cheek, returning the favour on the other cheek. “Are you ok to get back on your own? Need an escort?”

Tanith laughed. “I think I’ll be ok. See you in the morning.”

Johnny waved lazily at her as she retreated from the room. He was pleasantly buzzed, leaving him sleepy and warm. Wincing, he rolled his protesting body off the soft bed and walked just far enough to turn out the lights, draw the curtains and collapse back onto the bed. He pushed off his leggings and stripped off his shirt, pushing them to the floor in an uncharacteristically messy pile and extricated the blankets out from underneath himself. His phone fell out of the tangle of sheets and he placed it on his chest, meaning to set his alarm once he settled himself under the covers. He ended up dozing off the moment the blankets settled with a pleasant weight ontop of his body.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some porn 4 u

He was awoken suddenly, disoriented, by his phone buzzing on his chest an indeterminate amount of time later. Peering blearily at the screen, he saw it read 1:30am. There was a text from Evan again.

_is tanith still there?_

Johnny closed his eyes, considered going back to sleep, but sighed and keyed in his code, opening the message and replying.

_no. zzzzzz._

_were u sleeping? sry…_

_you should be too._

_can’t_

Johnny heaved a sigh.

_come up._

He had almost drifted back asleep when there was a soft knock on the door. Johnny hauled himself out of bed, pushing back the sheets on both side of the bed before padding to the door. He opened it, squinting and covering his eyes at the bright lights of the corridor as Evan slipped quietly inside.

“Hey,” Evan half-whispered, toeing off his shoes.

“Hi,” Johnny mumbled in response.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, Evan took in Johnny’s lack of clothing and made an odd noise. Johnny ignored him, half-asleep and still somewhat buzzed, and headed back to the bedroom, leaving Evan to follow. He climbed back into his side of the bed, pulling his covers up, intending to go straight back to sleep. He could hear Evan shuffling around in the dark towards the other side of the bed closer to the windows and pull off his sweater, leaving it in a heap on the floor. There was a pause, then the bed dipped with Evan’s weight as he climbed in beside Johnny.

Settling the blankets around himself, Evan whispered, “Thank you.”

Johnny hummed in response, turning towards him. 

“Did you have fun with Tanith?” Evan rumbled softly.

“Yes, mama,” Johnny said, voice gravelly.

“You smell like booze,” Evan teased.

Johnny hummed again, something in the back of his head sober enough to pipe up that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, circumstances given.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Johnny falling back asleep, before Evan shifted restlessly beside him, then again less than a minute later. Johnny made a soft complaining sound, protesting, and felt around in the space between them until he found Evan’s hand. He heard Evan take a sharp breath as Johnny took his hand and rolled his body so he was facing away from Evan, pulling Evan’s arm to drape across him. There were another few moments of silence before he heard Evan exhale and relax, shifting his body closer to Johnny’s so they were effectively spooning, palm splayed warmly across Johnny’s bare chest. It was nice. Johnny was just hazy with booze enough to imagine it could be anyone behind him, wrapped around him.

“Thanks,” Evan whispered, barely audible, breath ghosting across Johnny’s ear.

Johnny said nothing, only tipped his head back to knock gently once on Evan’s shoulder and collarbone before he promptly fell back asleep.

 

 

He wasn’t sure what woke him some time later, only that it was still dark and his head was only slightly fuzzy. He took a moment to orient himself, remembering the hotel room and then, belatedly, Evan. Who was still pressed up behind him, though he had gone stiff with the effort not to move an inch. Still collecting his thoughts, Johnny heaved a sigh that turned into a yawn halfway through. He held is breath at the top, stretching slightly, arching his spine. Evan’s arm around his ribs tightened spasmodically, like a vice, pushing the air out of him forcefully and holding him in place. Johnny was suddenly wide awake and very aware of the source of Evan’s unease, pressed against his backside. Johnny took a very slow breath, in and out. Without meaning to, his spine arched again, feeling the firmness of Evan’s erection pressed between his cheeks, feeling it twitch at the movement. Evan’s arm clamped harder against Johnny’s chest, muscles straining.

“ _Evan,_ ” Johnny breathed, the sound hardly even a whisper.

Johnny could hear the careful inhale and exhale, cold then hot against the nape of his neck; could hear the slight unsteadiness. Could almost feel the embarrassed heat radiating from Evan’s face. Johnny pushed lightly at Evan’s arm wrapped around him.

“Don’t,” Evan growled at him, holding him firmly still again before whispering, “It’ll go away.”

Johnny laid there for a what felt like a long while, still as he could, the only sound in the room Evan’s carefully controlled breathing. Abruptly, Evan rolled away from him, facing the window. Johnny let his body shift onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, feeling his own heart racing.

“Shit,” Evan muttered. “Sorry.”

Johnny looked over at Evan’s form, shoulders moving with the deep breaths he was taking. “Evan.” A murmur this time, firmer.

Evan was still, tense, curled in on himself away from Johnny. Johnny could feel the shame rolling off of him. He rolled again so he was facing Evan’s back, scooted his body close to the larger one in front of him, and laid his hand carefully on Evan’s hip.

“ _Evan_.” 

He could feel Evan go rigid. Johnny’s brain had completely left the building. Possibly the solar system. Waiting a moment to let Evan push him away if he wanted, Johnny slid his palm along the waistband of the soft pants Evan was wearing, following the curving dip of his hipbones and then moving his hand away from the band, down the V of those hips and suddenly his hand was cupping firm heat. Evan made a strangled sound, gasping. His hand clamped down on Johnny’s wrist, stilling his movement.

“It’s ok,” Johnny breathed against Evan’s neck.

Evan hesitated, clearly at war with himself, and Johnny took advantage of his distraction by squeezing his fingers around the bulge under his hand. Evan gave another choked sound, this time closer to a groan, hips snapping forward into Johnny’s hand involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” he said with feeling, letting go of his vice grip on Johnny’s arm.

Johnny took that as his cue. He ran his fingers up and down Evan’s shaft through the pants and underwear, momentarily flattening his hand against him and allowing Evan to thrust shallowly into it. Pressing Evan’s hips still, Johnny swiftly pushed his hand beneath the pants Evan was wearing, rubbing him through his underwear from base to tip. Johnny heard himself exhale heavily into Evan’s neck as he managed to get his fingers wrapped partially around Evan’s cock through the cotton of his boxer-briefs. It was hard and thick under his firm grip, bigger than Johnny imagined, even taking into account his extra height. Not that he had ever imagined, obviously. Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, banishing coherent thought from his brain. He instead focused solely on the rhythm he set up, hand sliding up and down, allowing Evan to grind his hips forward into his touch.

As he stroked downwards again to gently cup his balls, Johnny found himself fascinated by the sounds Evan was making; choked, gasping sounds, like he was trying to stop himself from making noise but just couldn’t help himself. A hundred questions suddenly sprang into Johnny’s head. Was Evan usually noisy in bed? What was he into? Was he kinky? Was he a good kisser? Was he good at giving head? Had he ever given head? Had he ever had sex with a man before? Was he a top? A bottom? Both? Did he even know? Why was it that the first time he’d allowed himself to wonder any of these questions was while he was giving Evan an awkward hand job through his pants? 

Johnny was abruptly aware of his own arousal, achingly hard, and he whimpered into Evan’s shoulder, inadvertently tightening his fingers as he stroked his palm downwards. Evan’s hips stuttered and he made a helpless sound, arching his tailbone and accidentally pressing along Johnny’s front, feeling Johnny’s hardness just as Johnny had felt his.

“Fuck,” Evan ground out again, and twisted, shoulders then hips following so he was lying flat on his back. 

Johnny took the opportunity to push Evan’s soft sleep pants down. Lifting his hips, Evan helped him pull them down over his hips and thighs and kicked them off onto the floor. Johnny quickly resumed stroking up and down Evan’s hard-on through the remaining briefs using the flat of his palm, Evan’s hips pushing up in time with his movements. Johnny glanced up at Evan’s face, almost scared to look at him, but Evan’s eyes were squeezed shut and he was going between panting, open mouthed, and biting his lip to hold back his moans. Johnny stared at his mouth, watching it shape soundless words and noises, and knew he was fucked. He wanted to kiss Evan. Badly.

To stop himself from following that line of thought, Johnny turned his attention back downwards. This was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t stop. He again experienced the same out-of-body feeling from the previous night, watching as his hand, seemingly of its own accord, gave one last lingering stroke along the shaft and then danced upwards. He petted lightly along Evan’s stomach, seeing and feeling his abdominals clench, sensitive. Tracing a finger down to where the sparse line of hair began to thicken and disappeared into his briefs. Johnny ran his fingers back along the waistband of Evan’s briefs from one hipbone to the other, returning to centre, and then teasingly slipped his hand inch by inch down under them. He wrapped his hand fully around the bare skin of Evan’s cock and stroked him once, trapped beneath his briefs, limiting the movement. 

Evan gasped, “Johnny,” followed immediately by a long, low moan. 

Johnny couldn’t help himself, his eyes flew up to Evan’s face, knew his cheeks were burning with the arousal of hearing his name spilled like that from _those_ lips. Of all the mouths, Johnny thought ruefully, before all thoughts flew from his mind when he saw Evan’s face. Evan was staring down at his face, not even sparing a glance to Johnny’s ministrations. His lips were parted as he panted shallowly, Johnny could see his face was flushed even in the darkness, and his eyes were blown. He knew that even if he turned on a light they would still be black, swallowed by his pupils. His brows were slightly knit and Johnny realised his free hand had somehow made it into Evan’s mussed hair, fingers threaded through the thick strands. None of his thoughts premeditated at this point, Johnny impulsively tightened his fingers, both the ones in Evan’s hair, pulling his head back and baring his neck, and the ones circling Evan’s cock. 

“ _Fuck!_ Fuck, fuck, Johnny,” Evan hissed.

Letting go of both grips, Johnny let out a startled sound as Evan suddenly reached out, his hand finding Johnny’s thigh and hurriedly sliding upwards towards its goal. Johnny let go of Evan’s dick and caught his wrist firmly, propping himself up on his elbow. Their eyes met again, Evan’s gaze questioning. Johnny covered by flashing a devious grin down at him and pushing his hand away, reaching across to the other hand and bringing it to Evan’s own shaft, wrapping his fingers around it for him. Evan didn’t move his hand though, leaving his fingers wrapped loosely around himself. Instead he brought his other hand up, finding the elbow propping Johnny’s torso upright and ran his fingers lightly up his arm, over his shoulder and around to cup the back of his neck. 

Johnny swallowed, closing his eyes at the feeling of the long fingers spread possessively across his nape, curling teasingly into the long ends of his hair. Evan pulled downwards gently, guiding Johnny’s face towards his, and Johnny felt panic flare up in his gut. No, no, no. He might already be in way deeper than he should be, but he had to stop this from delving any further into madness. He resisted, and Evan looked up at him uncertainly.

“Don’t,” Johnny whispered. Evan looked confused, slightly hurt. Johnny lowered himself, lying back down, to speak into Evan’s ear instead. “Leave it.” 

Johnny felt the hand slip from his neck and he looked back up at Evan, giving him a reassuring half-smile before stroking his fingers back through his hair. Evan closed his eyes, and Johnny used his other hand to reach down and close around Evan’s on his cock, urging him to move. He did, tightening his fingers and starting a slow rhythm, letting Johnny guide him until Johnny slipped his hand down to cup him below again. Evan moaned low again, and Johnny again experienced a brief flash of emotional attraction to Evan, loving the sounds he made, wanting nothing other than to draw more out of him, to pleasure him. Johnny almost groaned himself, though for a rather different reason. This was bad. Very bad. He should not be doing this.

He was though, and he kept doing it. His fingers wandered between wrapping around Evan’s, adjusting his pace, cupping his sac which was drawn close to his body with arousal, and running lightly, teasingly, down Evan’s chest. He brushed gently over his nipples which earned him a full body jerk and another of those wonderful choked moans the first time he did it. Johnny eventually brushed Evan’s hand away and took over pumping his shaft deftly, squeezing and twisting his fingers as he stroked downwards in the way he liked to do for himself. He could hear Evan was close- the long groans and moans had melted away and were replaced by panting and smalls bursts of sounds.

“Ah, ah…”

Johnny, wishing he had another arm, removed his hand from Evan’s hair and let it take over jerking Evan’s length, increasing the speed slightly, and brought the other hand down below, stroking lightly at the creases where his legs joined his groin, up and down. He could see Evan clenching his hands into fists on either side of him, abandoning watching Johnny’s fingers working him and he shut his eyes again. Sensing his oncoming orgasm, Johnny tightened his grip a fraction more and moved the other fingers to the taught patch of skin just behind Evan’s balls and pressed gently, applying slowly increasing pressure until Evan gasped sharply.

“Ah! Ah-…oh, _fuuuck_ ,” he choked out, his body seizing up, coming with a shudder.

Johnny slowly released the pressure, other hand still firmly gripping Evan’s cock until he was spent, releasing it gently. Evan kept his eyes closed, gasping for air as if they’d just finished the final run-through of their routine earlier that day. The reminder of the program, of real life, made Johnny start mentally kicking himself. Worst idea _ever_ , what was wrong with him?!

Finally Evan opened his eyes, looking sated and… well… sexy, Johnny had to admit. He looked fucking hot. And Johnny was still hard. Evan seemed to notice this as well. He grinned lazily and reached for Johnny, but Johnny moved away slightly, evading the questing hand. Instead, he raised an eyebrow archly at Evan and surveyed the mess across his flat stomach. Evan seemed momentarily preoccupied with wanting to touch Johnny, but his attention was immediately consumed by Johnny leaning over Evan’s body, his head lowering down and his tongue swiping a broad stripe across the taught flesh. Evan jerked helplessly as Johnny did it again, cleaning him up.

“ _Je_ sus,” Evan moaned deeply, head dropping back against the pillows.

Finishing, Johnny pulled Evan’s briefs back up his thighs and climbed back up the bed, reaching for the glass of water he’d had the forethought of placing on the bedside table hours ago before Tanith left and taking a sip. He placed it back on the nightstand and flopped down onto his back, sighing. He could almost hear Evan’s brain trying to work through the post-orgasmic haze. Johnny sent a fervent prayer out into the universe that despite his worries, maybe this wouldn’t end up a disastrous mistake and he could still do his job and get along with Evan. 

“Go back to sleep,” Johnny mumbled to Evan, turning on his side again, ignoring his persistent erection.

He felt a hand stroke lightly across his shoulder blades and partway down his spine. “Johnny…” Evan murmured softly. His hand drifted to Johnny’s hip, fingers curling around the bone, waiting for permission.

He smiled, knowing Evan would hear it in his voice. “It’ll go away.”

Evan snorted and then sighed, settling down on his back, his side pressed along Johnny’s back.


	13. Chapter 13

When he woke next it was much later, daytime, the sun filtering through the cracks and seams of the curtains. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking fuzzily. A face swam into view; Evan’s. He was awake, watching Johnny rouse with a sleep-softened look on his face, content. Despite not being fully awake yet, Johnny felt another spike of panic, momentarily worried that this might have had the opposite negative effect he had been worried about. Instead of making things awkward, what if Evan turned all lovey-dovey and couple-y? Johnny tried not to let his apprehension show as he oriented himself. He was lying facing Evan who was on his stomach with this shoulders twisted to face Johnny. Johnny realised his arm was draped across Evan’s lower back, fingers curled lightly around his waist.

“Good morning,” Evan greeted softly, voice rough and low, which _did_ things down in the bottom of Johnny’s stomach until he firmly tamped down on that line of thought.

“Morning, creeper. Watching me sleep?” Johnny rasped, casually sliding his hand off of Evan to scratch at his jaw.

“Just woke up. Watching you wake up,” he responded easily.

Johnny closed his eyes against the sleepy, content look on Evan’s face. It was distracting. He yawned. “Wh’time is it?”

“Nine.”

Johnny cracked an eye open, peering at Evan. “What? Seriously?”

Evan, who had been looking at the light coming through the gaps in the curtain, turned to smile at him. “Yep.”

Johnny stared at him wordlessly. “Well,” he said finally.

“Pretty much.”

“You don’t have rehearsal to rush off to?” Johnny asked, almost hoping.

“Nope. David cancelled after things finished up yesterday afternoon. You?”

Johnny chuckled. “Do I look like I have rehearsal in half an hour?” He stretched languorously. “I gave my solo time to Yu-Na and Mao to rehearse their duo.”

Evan hummed faintly and mimicked Johnny’s stretch. “I feel amazing.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have to go run a marathon or something like usual this morning?”

“Nah. Let’s go back to sleep. Sleeping is awesome.”

Johnny turned towards him again, waiting for Evan to meet his gaze. When he did, Johnny blurted, “We’re not boyfriends or something, you know that, right, Evan?”

Evan snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You always know just the right thing to say, baby.”

Evan promptly flopped over onto his back, stretching out again and scratching at his bare stomach. Propping himself on his elbow, Johnny stared down at him, long tanned limbs spread out among the white sheets, nude except for a pair of black CK boxer briefs, dark hair tousled attractively, shadow of stubble showing on his jaw… damn it. Johnny turned over onto his stomach, grumbling.

The bed dipped behind him, and Johnny felt Evan shift up along his side and a hand press into the small of his back, exploring the curve towards the swell of his ass. “Thank you,” Evan’s voice whispered near his ear sincerely.

 

 

He was alone when he awoke again close to 11:00. He went through the motions of getting showered and dressed perfunctorily, brain feeling fuzzy and scattered. The events of the previous night probably deserved some thinking about, but his brain seemed to be chasing after nebulous thoughts fruitlessly. He gave it up, told himself firmly that it was a one-time, booze-fuelled mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. He was a professional athlete, goddamnit, he was familiar with the concept of self-control!

He found Tanith downstairs at lunch looking rather worse for wear. He settled himself in the chair beside her just as Charlie turned up bearing two cups of coffee, setting one down in front of his fiancée. Tanith made thankful sound and gave Johnny a pathetic look.

“Why am I dying and you look fresh as a daisy?”

Johnny patted her arm. “I got to sleep in.” He tried to keep the grin from his lips but failed.

“You bitch,” Tanith moaned. “Marina just kicked our asses.”

As his lunch arrived, Johnny peered around the room surreptitiously but Evan was absent. Waiting until Charlie was distracted in his conversation with Adam, Johnny leaned over to Tanith, speaking lowly. “So… question: When you dated Evan was he quite… touchy with you?”

Tanith leaned back so she could fix Johnny with a startled and then immediately suspicious look. “Did something happen this morning? Tell me.”

“No, no. Nothing happened. I… he slept in my bed last night,” he muttered in a rush, looking away.

Tanith squawked loudly and Johnny slapped her arm, shushing her. “I left your room at like 12:30!” she hissed.

“I know! He texted me a while after saying he couldn’t sleep so I… I took pity on him! Nothing happened,” he lied.

“Then why are you asking me if Evan was touchy feely when we dated if nothing happened?”

“I don’t know!” Johnny protested, feeling flustered. “He’s… he’s quite… tactile,” he finished lamely.

Tanith levelled him with a skeptical look, one eyebrow quirked, before sighing and rolling her eyes. “Fine if you don’t want to talk about it I can respect that. And yes, to answer your question. When we first started hanging out he wouldn’t even hold my hand, though I think that was mostly just immaturity. But once we were properly dating he was very… well, tactile, as you said,” she said, shrugging.

Johnny held her gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes. He hummed thoughtfully, pushing the lettuce on his plate around distractedly. Tanith sighed and rubbed Johnny’s shoulder reassuringly. He didn’t miss the knowing look she fondly sent him.

 

 

They all met in Rink A after lunch as Meghan and Andrea unloaded all the costumes into the building with the help of the tour assistants. One by one they ran through each routine, starting with the opening number. His group routine by Marina was right after, followed by a short break before he and Sasha changed and took to the ice. Watching the other routines, Johnny felt a rush of pride and happiness, knowing that this show was going to be amazing. Which he was incredibly thankful for, considering this was going to be his life for the next several months. He’d had some nightmares before coming to Chicago about the show being a disaster and being bound by his contract to see it through but hating every moment of it. Applauding with the rest of the group after a particularly impressive piece by David, Johnny glanced at Kurt, warmed by the proud look on his face as he clapped enthusiastically.

Since the costume’s for Marina’s Footloose number were just jeans and tshirts, they agreed they didn’t need to change into them and ran quickly through the number in their regular clothes. Stepping off the ice after they were done, Meghan came by and handed Johnny his costume for Lori’s Gatsby inspired piece and he went off to change. Dressed and returning to the bench, waiting for the trio of ice dancers to finish their number, Johnny was joined by Evan a few minutes later in his matching costume. 

“Looking sharp,” Evan nodded his head towards Johnny, gaze fixed on the couples on the ice.

“Not so bad yourself, Lysacek,” Johnny snorted, eyes following Scott and Tessa as they did a difficult lift.

Johnny saw Evan glance at him in his periphery. “Kurt says we have Rink B for as long as we want after this. I guess there’s a public skate in here later this afternoon.”

Johnny nodded. “Sounds good. I need a latte after this and then I’ll meet you in there.”

Evan nodded his agreement as Lori called the two of them along with Jeff and Yu-Na to the ice.

It was an easy number, the boys mostly just props to show off Yu-Na. Johnny stepped off the ice having not even broken a sweat, donning his guards and taking a moment to take a drink from his water bottle before heading to the locker rooms to change. Capping the bottle, Johnny turned from the bench to find Andrea pushing a garment bag into his hands.

“Could you take this to Evan? He slipped by me and I didn’t notice.”

“Sure,” Johnny smiled, draping the bag carefully over his arm and shouldering his skate bag.

Evan was halfway out of his Gatsby costume when Johnny opened the door to the locker room. “Here, Andrea wants you to change into this.” He hooked the hanger of the bag onto an open locker door and sat down on the bench, reaching down to unlace his skates since he was finished his run-throughs. 

“Thanks,” Evan huffed distractedly, trying to extricate his limbs from his costume.

Jeff was also there, already pulling on his next costume as he had back to back routines. He and Evan chatted easily back and forth, carrying on a conversation that had clearly been flowing before Johnny had entered. Jeff finished his costume change quickly, though, trotting out the door with a wave to both of them. In the silence that ensued, Johnny focused on his post-skate routine, cleaning his skates meticulously. Pulling the costume off and his practice gear on, he could feel a distinct heaviness to the silence in the echoing room, broken only by the rustle of clothing. Johnny zipped up his skate bag, wincing as the sharp sound reverberated loudly against the hard tiles of the locker room. He shouldered his skate bag and made to leave the locker room, garment bag in hand.

As he approached the door, Evan cleared his throat awkwardly. Johnny’s hand hesitated as it reached for the door pull, and he turned and looked at Evan expectantly.

“Er,” Evan smiled apologetically, shirtless and hair a wild mess, and pulled at the costume he was struggling with. “Could you help me? I haven’t quite figured out how this one… works,” he finished lamely.

Johnny rolled his eyes for show but headed back towards the bench where Evan’s clothes were strewn, placing his things neatly on the bench a few feet away. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for the shirt Evan was holding.

Evan handed it to him. “It’s too much fucking fabric.”

“Just unbutton everything and put it on like a normal dress shirt.” Johnny began pushing the pearled buttons through the holes.

“I couldn’t find the buttons for the neck or the cuffs,” Evan admitted, shrugging.

Johnny snorted and stepped in towards Evan, offering the shirt up to him. “Here, see? They’re hidden beneath the ascot. And the sleeves are right here.” He unbuttoned them deftly as he showed Evan where they were.

Evan hummed, taking the shirt from Johnny. “It’s still way too much fabric.” 

It took a moment to get the shirt moved right ways up so Evan could slip his arms through the sleeves. Johnny helped him drape the shirt correctly over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric down so the seams lay flat. He stepped back, allowing Evan to button the front, starting at the bottom and working up towards the neck. Successfully negotiating the buttons hidden beneath the sewn-in ascot, Evan allowed Johnny to adjust the shirt again, making sure all the folds and seams lay correctly for the waistcoat to go over.

“Tuck the shirt in,” Johnny instructed.

Leaving the cuffs dangling open at his wrists, Evan unzipped the stretchy trousers and tucked the ends of the shirt in as Johnny reached for the caramel-coloured waistcoat remaining in the garment bag. He handed it to Evan once he had zipped himself again and helped him shrug into it. Johnny adjusted the ascot to let Evan fold the waistcoat over it, tucking it in, then straightened the collar as Evan finished buttoning it. Smoothing his hands over his shoulders one last time, Johnny reached down for Evan’s wrist and guiding it up to his chest. He turned Evan’s hand over to reveal the buttons on the wrist and gently pushed each of them through the corresponding loops and then did the same to the other side. Finished, Johnny released Evan’s wrists and surveyed the costume, minutely adjusting a few folds and seams, nevermind that it was pointless as they would all be shifted as soon as Evan was on the ice. 

Not entirely thinking of what he was doing, Johnny ran his palms down Evan’s chest, smoothing the buttery velvet fabric of the waistcoat appreciatively. It was a beautiful material. He reached the hem and tugged it slightly, following its edge around his waist to his back and pulling it gently down again. He stepped back, nodding in satisfaction- the costume looked perfect. It was much higher quality than anyone would expect on a tour budget and Johnny wondered distractedly where it had come from. It fit Evan perfectly after the alterations, and Johnny couldn’t help but admire the long lines of Evan’s legs, the taper of his waist, the broad sweep of his shoulders. His gaze finally wandered back up to Evan’s face and he felt his stomach do a strange flip. Evan was looking at him again with that weird intense look and Johnny’s smile faded. He needed to get out of there immediately.

“There you go,” he said briskly, stepping away and retrieving his bag, not meeting Evan’s eyes.

He turned to leave and Evan caught him by the wrist, turning Johnny slightly as he stepped back towards him. “See you in a bit?” His voice was low and rich again, and Johnny shivered, cursing his own mind as it flashed sharply back to the same tone in Evan’s voice the previous night.

Embarrassed, Johnny could feel his cheeks warming under Evan’s scrutiny and he snatched his wrist back defensively. “Yeah, yes. In a bit.”

Evan nodded, giving Johnny a small smile before they both turned away, Johnny hurriedly exiting the room. 

 

 

Johnny hesitated in the corridor, considering leaving the rink then and getting his latte, but then decided it might be rude and that he should check out the rest of the routines. As he seated himself back in the rink, this time on the bleachers, Jeff, Brian, and Mao were just finishing their number. The music cut and Johnny joined the others in applauding the group as they stepped off the ice. Evan took to the ice next, followed by Yu-Na in a short version of a flowy white regency dress. Johnny realised with a start he really didn’t know anything about Evan’s other numbers and peered around for who had choreographed this one. Brian was leaning on the boards, watching the pair avidly. _Interesting,_ Johnny thought. They were somewhat of an unlikely pair, especially with David choosing to work on a duo with Evan. Johnny settled back into his seat, eager to see the number.

The pair took their starting poses and the music was cued. Johnny recognized the piece from the soundtrack of the more recent Pride and Prejudice film with Keira Knightley. The piano entered gently and they began, moving gently and delicately around each other, not making physical contact beyond Yu-Na’s hand placed lightly in Evan’s. Johnny smiled when he saw what David had done, emulating a formal set dance as they did in the 19th century. He couldn’t help but be impressed with the way the two of them managed to match each other’s movement so easily despite their seemingly obvious differences. He would have never thought he’d see Evan do anything that could be described as ‘delicate’, either.

The music slowed for a moment as they seemed to finish their dance, Yu-Na curtseying politely and Evan bowing to her somewhat stiffly. She turned to leave and Evan caught her hand, looking taken aback at his own boldness as Yu-Na turned, eyes wide and round. He released her hand immediately, which she cradled against her chest. Straightening his shoulders, Evan offered her his hand again formally, asking her for another dance. Yu-Na looked away, shy, before glancing up at Evan coyly. The music picked up and she made to place her had back in his but instead pulled away at the last minute, twirling around and dancing off away from him. She threw him a look that quite clearly said, ‘catch me if you can,’ and Evan took off after her. 

They danced teasingly around each other, movements becoming more sweeping and less controlled and purposeful. As Evan finally caught her hand again and pulled her fully into his arms, the music paused, then suddenly crescendoed as Evan let her go, take off backwards and pulling her with him. Johnny watched, helplessly entranced, as they swirled around the ice together, smooth and graceful. His brain didn’t seem to want to reconcile the fact that this was Evan Lysacek he was watching. He skated like a different person, Johnny thought dazedly, though there were moments here and there where Evan’s technique was unmistakably his own. In between, however, his transitions had become smoother, his lines more graceful and elegant. Instead of looking like a flailing scarecrow on ice, Evan looked every bit the tall, dark and handsome leading man.

As he and Yu-Na pulled out of a side-by-side toe loop passing Johnny’s seat on the bleachers, Evan caught his eye and grinned. Johnny smiled back, feeling odd and slightly short of breath. He didn’t know how to feel about all this. On one hand it was beautiful and he couldn’t help but appreciate it. On the other, it was incredibly unsettling and strange to see his competitor so changed. He had caught glimpses, obviously, during their own rehearsals, but with his own skating to focus on, it was hard to get the full picture until he saw Evan skating with someone else.

On the ice, the music slowed to it’s end and Evan brought Yu-Na out of the lift they were doing, placing her gently on the ice as she turned within his arms for a moment, allowing him to move her limbs as he moved his own. Johnny felt a strange stab of something unpleasant in his gut as the routine ended, Yu-Na turning back into his embrace and looking lovingly up into his eyes, and decided nobody would get mad if he ducked out of watching the last routine and went to get his coffee. He applauded as he stood with his bag, discreetly slipping off the bleachers. As he climbed down the side, he noticed Evan’s eyes sweep across his previous seat, searching for him, as he and Yu-Na relaxed out of their finishing position and shook out their limbs. Johnny shook his head darkly, struck once again by how incredibly strange the last several days had been, and left the rink.

 

 

By the time Johnny made his way back to the rink with his latte (and Evan’s usual Americano), the rest of the skaters had left back to the hotel to relax for the evening before heading out tomorrow morning. A few of the choreographers and tour staff were huddled near the front entrance discussing a few logistical issues with the run-through and Johnny nodded at them as he passed. Pushing through the doors to Rink B, Johnny spotted Evan sitting on the benches, talking with Kurt and Stephane. He made his way over unobtrusively, handing Evan his drink before taking a seat next to Kurt.

“-well we’ll leave it for the dress rehearsal then,” Kurt was saying. “They’re still tailoring Evan’s costume so it’ll have to wait.”

Stephane smiled reassuringly and patted Evan’s knee. “Do not worry, it will be fine. It will be great!”

Evan sighed, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah, ok. I mean we’re doing our best, right?” He looked at Johnny for support.

Unsure of the nature of the conversation, Johnny hesitantly agreed. “Yes. We’re definitely working hard…?”

Kurt and Stephane both nodded. “We’ll leave you boys to it then. We have a staff meeting to get to. See you bright and early!” Kurt beamed at them, standing to leave.

Stephane laid a hand on Evan’s shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Relax, ok? It will all be good, non?”

Evan sighed, nodding as he exhaled. Stephane gave Johnny a friendly wink and rushed off after Kurt’s retreating back.

Busy unlacing his boots, Johnny raised an eyebrow at Evan as he sat and sipped at his Americano. “Everything ok?”

Evan looked slightly embarrassed, not quite meeting Johnny’s eye. “Yeah, fine. Just… I don’t know. Worried about this.”

Johnny set about wrapping his feet, unsure whether he should commiserate or try to bolster Evan’s confidence. Glancing briefly at the way Evan’s jaw was clenched, he decided on the latter. “Hey. We’ve been working our asses off on this. Stephane is right, it’ll be ok.”

Evan rolled out his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just a lot, you know?”

Johnny grimaced. “That I do.”

Evan finally looked up, flashing Johnny an amused smile before heading over to set up the music. 

Finishing lacing his skates, Johnny headed out onto the ice, Evan joining him soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that's where it's at. I have the rest of the fic planned out and everything but I won't bother if there's no interest, which I really can't imagine there is lol. Pity it's so dang specific and I can't even turn it into an au for a different fandom or something......
> 
> Anyways, please leave a comment.


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